Water Burning
by The Happy Pen
Summary: Fate had dictated four, wonderful meetings. For Dawn, it was love at first sight. For Leaf, it was the return of her first love. For May, it was the invitation of a teasing jerk. And for… But She is a cruel mistress. Their special encounter killed their precious friend, driving them all into the darkness. When five years later, they reunite, what will happen to their past love?
1. Hello Again

_I am freaking out right now, since this is my first fanfic, but I'm hoping you guys will enjoy this!_

 _Umm, this is a Pokemon fanfic, I think you know, and the shippings are… *drum roll*: Contest, Poke, OldRival, Ikari and very, very_ **very** _slight Amour (only slightly!). I might add in some more ships later, though I don't think I actually know much more!_

 _This fanfic is based loosely on a vocaloid song called 'Witch Hunt', and I think you'll realise it soon near the end of this chapter if you have listened to it. I'm planning for there to be two parts to the story: the first part is the present time (it's written in past tense, but oh well!) and the second part is the past. The second part will basically build up to the present and will explain why there's something wrong between the girls and the boys. The chapters will take turns between past and present, eg. Chapter 1 is the present time, Chapter 2 is the past time, Chapter 3 is the present time, Chapter 4 is the past time, Chapter 5 is the present time, etc._

 _Anyway, that's enough of the intro, I suppose! Sit back, relax, and enjoy/hate! (Please do the former, please do the former, please do the former—not wanting to sound desperate, but please do the former!)_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and story**

 _(Did I do that right?)_

* * *

 _~Hello Again~_

* * *

"Dawn, how long are you going to take?!" Leaf yelled, tapping her sandal-clad foot impatiently on the floor and drumming her fingers on her arm as she glared above the staircase.

"Just give me a minute!" the said girl yelled back, a crack audible when she spoke.

May released a soft sigh as she twirled a coil of caramel hair, her sapphire gaze in the same direction as the other brunette of the house. Leaf was never very patient, but today she was even more uptight than usual. It was not as if she couldn't understand though—she could comprehend too well the reasons for why Leaf's temper was so inflammable at the time. May just sunk into low spirits rather than allowing nothing to fan the flames of her anger, unlike the girl standing beside her.

And as for Dawn… well, perhaps her memories overwhelmed her for a moment, so she had to reapply mascara to her lashes and conceal the black smudges her tears had poured over her cheeks. She was too emotional, more than she normally was, when she reminisced their past.

May sighed again, a mournful tinge in her tone. If the one who was absent could witness the troubles they had suffered from the villagers, she might have returned and hammered them down six feet under with that mysterious mallet she kept stored away somewhere inside of her. Perhaps there was something more powerful than fairy dust crackling within her fingertips to be able to summon such a dangerous weapon.

"I am done!" Dawn sang through baby pink lips, feigning joy in her voice as she strutted down the stairs in snow white, strappy high heels. May couldn't help a small smile. Even on such a horrid day, the girl always made sure to get up, dress up, show up, and never give up, regardless of her mood.

"I thought we told you not to wear anything but white," Leaf frowned, her hand rising to her hip as she warily eyed the elaborately-designed, pastel pink gown her friend donned—which May had to wonder how she bought, because it looked dreadfully costly.

"But I can't just go out without a little bit of pink! That is breaking all laws of fashion!" Dawn jutted out her lower lip into a pout, flipping her navy hair with a flourish.

"Uh, do you see us wearing pink?" Leaf deadpanned, gesturing to herself and May. "Just your lipstick would have been fine."

"Oh, Leafy, my outfit needs it, too!" Dawn rolled her cobalt blue eyes. "I mean, we can't just go out wearing boring old white, now can we? A splash of colour won't kill the world! Anyway, we're already going against the rules by not putting on black!"

"She's got a point," May nodded, smiling at Leaf. "I mean, I am also wearing red." She motioned to the crimson rose pendant hanging from her necklace. "And you are wearing green." Her hand brushed aside Leaf's hair to reveal the chain of emerald leaves dangling from her ears, and a mirthful chuckle escaped her sheeny ruby-stained lips when she saw the alarmed expression slapping the brunette's face.

"Leafy, you hypocrite!" Dawn gasped in exaggerated horror.

"Oh, be quiet!" Leaf snapped as she batted away her friend's hand, but she couldn't hold back the embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks. "I just thought… well… she gave them to me, so I might as well wear them, and…" She trailed off, her face flushed a humiliated shade of red and steam fuming from her ears.

Dawn giggled amusedly, much to the brunette's chagrin. "You're too adorable!"

"Sheesh…"

"That's very nice of you, Leaf," May chuckled, giving her distressed friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "They look gorgeous on you."

Leaf managed a grateful grin. "Thanks. But…" She released the most agitated sigh, her brows crunching together into a frustrated scowl. "How on earth did my earrings become the topic of conversation?! We're supposed to be talking about Dawn's tardiness and lack of respect for the colour scheme of our outfits!"

"We're just praising your beauty!" Dawn said, her lips curving from ear to ear as she pulled the girl's tresses into a thick pleat, allowing a few rebellious strands to fly out and frame her face. May briefly mused on when she had appeared behind them, but it didn't honestly require much thought. Dawn was a trained ballerina and gymnast—she would have been much more worried if she wasn't so agile and smooth.

"It's such a shame you didn't bother to dress up though, May dear," Dawn sighed, looking sadly at said girl's common attire. "It's an important occasion and yet you only doll up with a bit of makeup—what a waste of your charm!"

"Should I be insulted by that…?"

"Oh, no!" she laughed, shaking her head vigorously. "Trust me, you look fabulous no matter what! It simply wouldn't hurt to put a little more effort into your appearance."

"There is a time and place for dressing up, I believe—today I simply don't think it is appropriate. Not for me, anyway," May hastily added, seeing the blunette's falling face. "I admire how you always look your best even when it's a normal day."

She was speaking the truth and nothing else, but still heaved a discreet sigh of relief when her friend's merry beam returned to her lips. "Shall we make our move then?" she asked, already heading for the door.

"Sure!" Dawn chirruped, patting Leaf's head as a way of telling her she was finished.

Expectedly, Leaf was very irked by the gesture, but she gave a thankful nod towards her and a confirmative nod towards her fellow brunette. Only one step forward—and suddenly, she stopped. May turned to question her, finding a solemn darkness to have veiled her features, a sadness that brought not the light of tears, but a shadow of hatred to her orbs.

"It's only been five years," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else, her tone low and uttered in quiet incredulity.

Dawn's eyes brightened, but not from any joy. "Hard to believe, right? Feels like much longer."

A wistful grin pasted itself upon May's lips. "Only five years."

But what difference could it have made? She would never come back to them.

* * *

"Thank you for taking us here, Brendan, Lucas, Rudy." May smiled warmly at the aforementioned men, as they helped she and her friends down their respective horses.

"Don't mention it," Brendan nodded, flashing a deliberate charming smile.

A weed of annoyance sprouted in May's mind. She adored Brendan as much as she did her little brother, but she wished so dearly that he would stop with the flirtatious grins. He had confessed his 'undying love' to her countless times, and she would always reject as politely as she could—even if her heart did quicken ever so slightly when he looked so alluring (it was simply impossible not to be affected). He didn't seem to understand the definition of defeat—though that in itself, she supposed, was quite admirable.

"We drop you here every year, you know. You don't have to thank us so much."

"No, it's necessary," Leaf said, her lips graced with a genuine smile May hadn't seen since the night before. "You always listen to our selfish demands and take us wherever we desire without any hesitation. It would be less than rude _not_ to thank you."

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal with us, Leaf," Lucas winked, causing Dawn to perk an unamused brow. "We will obviously help you out whenever you need us. Besides—who can say no when such beautiful ladies are crying for help?"

"Who says we're crying? We could easily just go and get other people to drop us off, you know."

"Dawn, don't say that!" Leaf hissed. "Sorry about her."

"You don't need to be! That's exactly what I like about you, Dawn Berlitz!" Lucas grinned, leaning forward from his saddle to lift the said girl's chin. Dawn looked at his hand like it was contaminated.

"Uh, ever heard of personal space?" she retorted, dragging May in front of her to block the man's touch.

May felt a small twinge of pity in her soul for the poor man. If he were a little bit earlier, Dawn might have been all over him, but alas, time wasn't such a magnanimous young maiden. Dawn was captivated by different eyes, and she refused to let herself fall for them again. Even if she wanted to love another, it seemed her heart had been stolen by that person, and she would never have deigned to ask for nor steal it back.

"We will wait here for you," Rudy breathed, speaking up for the first time that night.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Rudy?" Leaf asked worriedly.

"Yeah!" Dawn poked her head out from behind May. "You can go in for just a second! We won't complain!"

Rudy forced his lips into a mournful smile, the glimmer in his eyes fading. He appreciated their concern and their thought, but May knew he just couldn't bear to go with them. It was a simple matter, was it not? His heart would surely break if he had to stand before her shadow.

 _"I gave her up to the wrong man. I couldn't save her."_ What others said made no difference—the fault was his and only his, and he would never believe otherwise. He was never to blame, but when someone was convinced to be the reason for a grave mistake, it was difficult to make them turn around. It was already a miracle that he was bringing the girls to the most suffocating place he had ever set foot on.

"Come on, you two."

"Wha—May!" Dawn cried, chasing after the retreating brunette. "What about Rudy?!"

"Rudy will come in his own time," Leaf said softly, but the frown drawn across her brows too clearly betrayed her doubts. "He isn't ready."

"Oh, Lord! He really shouldn't hurt himself like that!" Dawn humphed. "That's too selfish, laying the blame on himself!"

"But he can't help it." May tucked a curl behind her ear, a sorrowful gleam trembling within her orbs. "He loves her. Why wouldn't he feel to blame? He let her go so she could be happy, and yet she is now…" She shook her head. She couldn't say something without knowing what had truly happened. That was a right nobody had. Voicing her suspicions might have evoked more stress from the girls, and that was the last thing she wished for.

"Even though he's not at fault." Dawn snapped out a derisive click of her tongue, her arms crossing dramatically over her chest.

"Honestly, I don't think that's so bad," Leaf uttered distantly as she fingered her earrings—a gesture May had learned that she was deep in thought and memory. "At least he is not an arrogant fool and his feelings for her were sincere."

" _Are_ sincere, Leafy." Shadows that Dawn seldom wore glazed over her eyes, bearing a visage of hopeless longing. "Don't ever say that they _were._ "

Leaf cast her gaze down at the ground, her hand dropping to her side, and her face contorting with resentment and spite at one who she couldn't see. There was nothing she could say to that.

May closed her eyes as a stinging sensation tingled behind them, which threatened to spill over her mascara. Dawn's sensitivity seemed far too contagious as of late. Now every time she heard or saw something that only had the slightest connection to the one they yearned for, tears never failed to shame her in public.

Tentatively, her hand reached for her throat, which had suddenly become full of thick mucus and bile when the prickling ceased, and her eyes reopened. How she despised the atmosphere of the place. Walking through the cemetery was a reminder that someday, she was going to end up the same as the rest underneath her—a rotten corpse buried in darkness, an insignificant skeleton mourned for, then forgotten in a new age. She didn't like to think of them in such a condescending manner, when they, too, were once living, but their spirits only seemed to further heighten her unease, and it was in no way appreciated.

 _Unease?_ Oh, the idiocy of her slow reaction almost diverted her attention from the greater matter. When had she become uneasy? Why did she feel sick? She had never felt so ill when she walked through in the past.

"What the hell are _they_ doing here?" she heard Dawn hiss, her tongue dripping with an unfamiliar venom that almost seared her own skin.

Finally, the realisation struck her: she had been walking sightless for the whole time, even when she allowed herself to see again.

The world suddenly slammed into her eyes, jerking and clenching her heart like a beast would pounce on its blind prey, and they painfully tried to look beyond the odd, dark splotches of colour blotting their vision. For a moment, she had been floating in the air, wobbling and bemused, before her feet abruptly landed back on the earth—the hard and gritty _stone_ , and with a final throb the colours dispelled from her sight.

How she wished they could blind her again.

Her heart sunk to her stomach and irksomely beat a disgusting rhythm that stirred her dinner as she regarded the man kneeling before her, his back turned and gaze elsewhere. More stood beside him, but he who was on his knees was the only focused individual in her vision. The ones she couldn't decipher were engulfed in darkness, but she needn't her eyes to know they were there—just as they had always done, their aura stifled and strangled the very air itself, so much so even a god couldn't have breathed in their presence.

"Do we have to bow down to you, Your Majesty?" Leaf sneered. "Or would you tie us to the stakes if we don't do so?"

"Leafy—" one man began.

"Don't you dare call me by that name!" Leaf bellowed with rage so immense the stirring within her friend's stomach had become violent churning. "I am not talking to you, so keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

"Gary, stop it," his companion growled lowly, the usual ice in his voice so intense and fierce that May's knees nearly buckled beneath her. "Don't bother with them."

"Paul, that's not—"

"Did you not hear him, Gary?" Her heart almost shattered merely by the weight of his voice. "When we tell you to stop, we expect you to stop."

Had that growing sickness not given her the strength to keep on standing, she would have certainly collapsed and broken down. If she were to humiliate herself and sob at their feet like a wretched widow, then she could never face herself again. Hatred had become a great and powerful manifestation of her will—that was the only thing keeping her strong. It might have been what people considered pathetic, but if her loathing hadn't smouldered like the flames they had set ' _her'_ alight with, then she would have been nothing more than a breathing shell of a former human being. That would have been an insult to the one who had truly suffered from their burns.

"Long time no see," a chuckle sounded, void of any joy from their reunion, and he rose. A shift in aura, indicating movement, distance—then he turned.

A revolting chill slithered down her spine. May almost couldn't recognise him. His face hadn't changed in the slightest, yet she felt she was looking at a stranger. Was that how he sounded five years ago—despaired, mourning, and so desolate, with no life or happiness? That wasn't the light-hearted, playful and vibrant man she had known.

 _That did not matter._ People changed, whether in five years or five moments—and he was no exception. Even if it was with this person, she could not smile so gladly and courteously when the one she abhorred stood right in front of her. The sickness she realised to be the cause of her will wouldn't allow herself to do such a thing. Bowing to him would have been equivalent to admitting a flaw they never bore, but she couldn't afford to express her rancour so openly when she was speaking to someone so high in status.

Perhaps she could not do the gesture of demanded respect—but there was no reason her tone couldn't act it.

Training a neutral countenance, she stared into his woeful dark russet eyes, and in a soft, steady voice that disgusted even herself, she spoke: "It has been a while, hasn't it, Your Majesty?"

He chuckled again, and the bile writhed like froth in her throat. "Five years, I think. Oh, and don't address me so formally; it feels really weird. Call me what you used to."

His smile was gentle, but still there came a bitterness that dirtied her tongue. "Just call me Ash."

* * *

 _Aaaaaaaaaand that's it! Gah, it feels so amazing to finish the first chapter! There's probably a bit of unnecessary description, but that's kind of how I roll, so I hope you guys can bear with me and like the story! It's not enough to send shivers running down your back, but this is my limit at the moment. I did work quite hard on this, so I'll be pretty sad if this doesn't satisfy you…_

 _So let me get this straight: ASH AND MAY ARE NOT A COUPLE IN THIS FANFIC! I AM NOT AN ADVANCEDSHIPPER (that what you call it?)! And the guy who May couldn't look at… well, I think that's pretty obvious, but I'll give you a clue anyway: he practically has green everything (Another Hint: it's not Harley!)._

 _Anyways, I'm happy to take in any feedback and ways to improve, so please leave a review!_

 _The Happy Pen_


	2. The Sound of the Wind Laughing

_Okay, guys, I'm back! I'm thrilled that you guys like this, and extra special thanks to the first people who reviewed, favourited and followed my story—you guys totally made my day!_

 _I had originally wanted to call this 'The Sound of a Ribbon Flapping in the Wind', but the title didn't fit… *teardrop falling*_

 _Now, I'm pretty sure I mentioned in the last chapter that I will be writing this story in two parts: the past and the present. This chapter is, I'm sure you guys realise,_ the past _. *cheer cheer cheer* Yes, thank you, thank you._

 _The one you've all been waiting for (well, I think you've all been waiting for her, I mean, I'm hoping you were, but if you didn't, that's fine too) is making a special entrance in this chapter. Don't worry, she ain't quite dead yet._

 _I'm just going to warn you now that since I'm one of those people who get bored easily with their own ideas, my writing has probably dulled greatly in comparison to the previous chapter. I'll try everything I can to get my drive back, like listening to the song and forcing myself to daydream about the next events and stuff. For now, please bear with me!_

 _I also apologise in advance if any of the characters are OOC._

 _Sit back, relax, and since you're still reading this, I'm hoping that you will enjoy!_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

* * *

 _~The Sound of the Wind Laughing~_

* * *

Misty's head shot up from the pillow with a jolt so sudden her neck nearly cracked, eyes wide and hot, sticky sweat drenching her face in its nauseating glory. Her heart pounded painfully within her chest with such effort she could physically feel it hit her ribcage, and her stomach muscles were so taut and sore it might have been a miracle that she even managed to sit upright without tearing them apart.

She clenched her eyes shut, her nails pinching the bridge of her nose hard enough to dispel the light throbbing between her orbs. There were still fragments of that dream wandering in her vision, trying to piece themselves back together so they could haunt her again. To think a memory could truly reshape itself into a nightmare—it was just like a child finding out that their favourite fairytale had begun as a horrifying idea created by the mind of a twisted storyteller. What a horrid wakeup.

Calming her breath, she wiped the noxious substance from her forehead and swung her legs over the bed. First thing in the morning, she was already sweating like she had just run around the whole of the kingdom. The stench was overpowering her nose, much to her displeasure, and the dry spikes piercing her larynx weren't improving her mood in the slightest. Cursing mentally, she tipped the jug that stood on her bedside table and poured the sheeny crystal aqua it held into the glass.

Then as soon as her tongue met a single droplet, it almost threw itself out of its shelter and made its owner choke herself—if it weren't for that inner lady sleeping deep within her consciousness, she wouldn't have been able to withstand the taste as she forced herself to down the whole glass. Water was supposed to be tasteless, but it seemed that somebody had slipped into her room during the night and added a flavour of vomit inside. It completely avoided touching the spikes and instead settled for circling around them.

Useless thing.

Exasperatedly, Misty pushed open the curtains in the hopes that the sunlight would soothe her vexation—only to find the cowardly fireball hiding behind a blanket of dreary clouds.

She didn't want to smell like a fish cooked without being washed, so she got ready to give herself a quick shower. Well, she was about to, but then she realised that the bath was already preoccupied by a rather annoying fangirl of the colour pink.

"Cut the glare, Mist, or you're going to end up burning that door down."

Misty felt a sharp pang at that word, and she was certain that it had shown. If it had though, her friend made no sign of noticing. "I'm not glaring, Leaf."

The said girl rolled her forest green orbs as she stepped out of her room. "Tell that to the mirror. And do you need some perfume or something? You positively stink, mind you."

"Thanks for pointing it out!"

"You are most welcome!" Leaf smiled. "Don't worry, Dawn's been in there for almost two hours. She'll be out soon enough."

"I swear I'm going to cut all of that girl's hair off one day," Misty growled.

"That will be the day you make a lifelong enemy!" Leaf laughed.

"I can risk that. What are you doing up so early?"

"The king of the Land of Sleep kicked me out again, and he ain't letting me back me in."

Misty raised her brows. "What an interesting way to tell your reason."

"I know, right? I'm so awesome!" Leaf grinned, her nose so high in the air she was practically asking someone to rip it off her smug face. "I'm gonna make some brekky. You want anything?"

"Just give me some juice, and butter on toast."

"Nothing else? I'm making scrambled eggs. You can have some, too."

"Then I'll have that as well. Make some extra for May. You know how she loves her food."

"She's going to be very disappointed with the lack of it today." Leaf's eyes pointed upwards to the ceiling, as if begging the heavens for their help in dread of May's inevitable outburst. Misty could picture the scene almost too vividly—the mere thought of it made her shudder.

"By the way, you don't look too great." Leaf peered with only slight worry at the towering red-haired woman, who appeared quite irritated that the brunette bothered to have noticed. "You sure you still want to go out? Skipping a morning jog once won't kill you."

"My legs are too used to that routine now. If I don't follow it, they'll cry."

"Your legs will _cry_?" Leaf gave her a deadpan look. "Really, Misty? Really?"

"Yes, really. Now go make breakfast!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" She rolled her eyes again. "Sheesh, you could be a bit nicer!"

"Whatever, Leaf."

"So cold!"

* * *

Heaving great sighs of exhaustion, Misty bent over on her knees and pushed her sweeping orange bangs away from her face, her lips splitting into a wild, exuberant grin. Nobody could disagree when saying there was nothing more wonderful and refreshing than swallowing huge gulps of water and air after sprinting around the village! She paid absolutely no heed to the odd stares she received from the bystanders and shouted out in glee, and the wind cried along with her, with the leafless branches of the trees clapping and cheering as she yelled through panting breaths.

Normally, she did care—quite a lot, actually—about how she appeared in public, since she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself and be labelled as a… well, as a freak. But after such a horrible dream, she wanted nothing more than just to dance outside until her legs broke.

She had tried persuading the other girls before to feel the wind and the sun and how amazing the outdoors were, but Dawn had run out of breath in the first two minutes, and May got hungry too easily, and Leaf was… well, she got distracted by the diamonds in the jewellery shop every single time they went around. Their speed was also appalling—she had expected Dawn, at least, to be able enough to keep the same pace as herself, but apparently, doing spins and backflips and balancing on the tips of one's toes were less exhausting than running one lap around a tiny village. They had insisted afterwards that they would run with her to provide some company, but Misty simply couldn't tolerate their lack of enthusiasm for the sport—thus, she decided she would just get up and get out before any of them could complain about it.

And right now, she was having the time of her life. She adored her friends, she really did; but sometimes, going on a small jog by oneself could be such a pleasurable experience when one was as devastated and horrified as she were, and shouting for the entire world to hear was so exhilirating! She couldn't have possibly explained the sensation rushing through her veins, but it might have been accurate to say she felt… _alive_. Alive and free of their society's idiocy. So didn't she have every right to scream like a deranged fool and still laugh?

But perhaps Misty had excited the wind slightly too much. Her ribbon could no longer endure the force of its tug and surrendered to the grasp of the howling gales, causing her long, lustrous tresses to frantically wave before her eyes as the wind ran along with her possession.

"Oh, you have got to be freaking kidding me!" she shrieked, almost tripping over the stone tile beneath her as she started for her ribbon.

* * *

"Your Highness, I implore you to return to the palace and cease this adamant behaviour at once! It is unbecoming of a future king!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" Going back to that grand castle was like being sent to the battlefield. A different sort of a battlefield, of course—a battlefield that was known as The Court.

Unfortunately, Ash Ketchum had met with an ill fate of being born in the middle of this battlefield. There were rarely any moments of leisure, even when he escaped the castle! He had plenty of riches, he did—jewels that shone brighter than the stars, clothes made of the finest silk, golden goblets encrusted with sparkling gems, and a bed with the softest and most luxurious blankets only a magician could have weaved! It was not that he wasn't content or appreciative of all his grandeur; he simply wanted some things a bit more… _subdued_. He didn't wish to be weighed down by layers of intricately-designed garments and chunky necklaces and heavy earrings—what man ever did?—he wanted to wear the plainer and more comfortable attire of the common men! He didn't enjoy the bland, high-quality foods served on a silver platter—he liked to eat the simple and tasteful flavours of the normal folks!

"Your Highness!"

"Just wait, Brock, let me stay out a little bit longer!" Ash glared. "Go flirt with Nurse Joy or something!"

For a moment, his guard looked awfully tempted by the idea—it was too clear, with his coffee cheeks tinged a pink rose and his lips spreading from ear-to-ear like the freakish grin of a Cheshire Cat—but to Ash's disappointment, he instantly broke out of the fantasies playing in his mind. "Your Highness, I understand how…" He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "… _vexing_ it can be to listen to your father all the time. But as much as I would like to allow you to stay out here, it is of utmost importance that you return to your duties as prince."

Ash shivered ever so slightly as a sudden wind slipped underneath his shirt. "But I still have to eat!"

"I'm sorry, that really isn't a valid excuse to remain in this village," Brock deadpanned. "Please, Your Highness, you must—"

"Holy crap, who's that pretty girl over there?!"

"What?!" His head instantly snapped round to the direction of Ash's finger.

Now how could a prince let such a chance slip from his grasp?

As soon as Brock's gaze was trapped by the beauty Ash had pointed to, the young man immediately seized the opportunity and sprinted away. The wind urged him as well, pushing his legs forward to one more hour of freedom, throwing a jubilant beam onto his lips as he dashed forward. He hadn't a single clue where he was heading, but he was running somewhere, and hopefully it would be in front of a food shop.

Unable to restrain himself, he shouted and cheered in brilliant euphoria, and the wind roared even stronger with him. Wasn't fleeing always such a thrill? Fooling a soldier and laughing at him as one escapes is one of the greatest joys in life! Of course, it isn't so much fun when Mr. King gives the both of them a beating at the end of the day, but it was all worth it!

"You big fat idiot!"

Yes, Brock was indeed a big fat idiot—

Ash's eyes nearly shot out of his skull when an instantaneous pain struck the back of his head, and he lost complete control over his footwork, thus was left to fall face-first onto the stony pavements. Stars flashed before his sight, dizzying his baffled brain as he desperately groped for some sense to make of the situation. There was somebody shouting—most likely furious and indignant for no reason he could comprehend—but he was too busy searching for the light that would drag him back down to earth.

"I'm talking to you, you imbecile!" There it was!—that angel's voice, calling out to him! Was he at last going to ascend to the heavens? Devour all the foods he ever desired, gambol in dirty clothes, gain ultimate freedom?

When his vision returned, he was almost certain he would have woken up amidst great, long tables consisting of delectable delicacies, in the grassy plains of paradise, bathing in the scintillating sun. And perhaps he would have met the angel that brought him to this celestial city.

But why, he had to wonder, did this angel carry no halo atop her glorious head, or have strong, beautiful wings extend from her back? Why was this angel not dressed in white, but instead in men's attire, which appeared comically baggy on her even with the girdle around her waist? Why were her feet trapped in dirty worn shoes rather than be bare? And most importantly, why did she seem so angry, shouting in his ear like he had just committed a grave sin?

"Are you even listening to me?! Sit up and face me, you fool!"

He was being called a fool—by an angel. All his hopes and dreams shattered into shards of glass and lay broken at his feet. Were angels not known for their beauty and kindness and seraphic nature? She was very beautiful, that much was true—but not the slightest bit close to bearing the attributes of a heavenly immortal.

Moreover, how dare she address him with such an offensive name?! It wasn't like he even knew her, how could she just hit him across the head and call him by so many insults?!

"What the hell are you getting mad at me for?!" he scowled. "And that really hurt!" He searched for the murderous weapon she had just abused him with, but alas, there was nothing in her hands, aside from a—

"And you deserve nothing less!" she roared, the intensity of her glower increasing tenfold, rendering his own to pale in comparison. "Don't you ever watch where you stand when you run?! You stood on my ribbon, and thanks to you, it's practically destroyed!"

She thrusted the said accessory before him, and she might have very well punched his nose in if he hadn't pulled his head back. His brow furrowed as he examined the ribbon. One could easily tell it was created by the hands of an amateur, with its unskillful stitches, as well as its grotesque design. The colour was nice, he supposed, but he could imagine how horrid the contrast would have been on the redhead's hair. Furthermore, it was already blemished by dark burns and singes at the ends, nevermind the mud from his shoes!

"That's really ugly."

Of course, he was gifted with yet another wonderful smack to his head, which he realised now to be from the mallet the girl had magically whipped up in her hands.

"I dare you to say that again, you bastard!"

"Where the hell did you get that mallet from?! Actually, scrap that—stop calling me an idiot and stuff! My name's Ash, mind you! Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town! Get that name hammered into your head with that stupid mallet of yours!"

The girl's brows shot up in recognition, and suddenly he felt a heavy boulder drop on top of his already-throbbing brain with the word 'regret' engraved onto its surface. "Ash Ketchum? As in _Prince_ Ash Ketchum?"

Ash felt needles stabbing his spine as a heat wave washed over his body, dread dripping down his chin. It wasn't as if nobody was aware of the fact he was the prince—in fact, most of the village already had a vague idea, and if they didn't, a guard standing beside him clad in armour with the royal emblem on his breast surely betrayed them anyway—but it wasn't all too pleasant when somebody realised exactly who he was if they weren't conscious of it already. Their reactions were mostly the same—fear dawned their faces, they went down on their knees and apologised profusely for their mistake, called him by that smothering label, and fled with their tail between their legs.

"Holy crap, what?!" Yes, her reaction was identical to everyone else. She tore at her hair, viridian orbs enlarged, evidently flabbergasted, as she stared at him with utter disbelief. "Now that I think about it, the description fits! Black hair, coffee skin, brown eyes—you are actually fairly cu—"

She cut herself off at once, but that word imminently voiced by her hung unspoken in the air. "But you look so stupid as well!"

If Ash wasn't already on the ground, he would have fallen straight onto it and formed a crater. That might have been one of the biggest shocks of his life—and one of the most irksome ones, too. "Hey, what's with the stupid thing?!"

"But you don't look like you use your eyes, brain, ears or any common sense!"

"How the hell can you judge someone like that?!"

"Even an infant could see your idiocy!"

"What the—you can't just insult a prince like this!"

"Wow, arrogant much? I have lost all respect for you, _Your Highness_!"

A bullet of pain shot through his chest. How suffocating it was to constantly be called such a thing. Just like being thrown into a goddamn cage for all to see as if he were a rare creature on display.

"Don't call me that!"

Until that point, nobody paid heed to their trifle—only regarded them as youthful fools arguing over some pointless subject, being the temperamental and moody people yet to mature in the adult world. With the knowledge of this man being a prince, they made sure not to eavesdrop and avoid any threat of landing in trouble.

But now the volume and tone of his voice was impossible to ignore. The entire area silenced, every gaze turning to Ash, startled by his anger. Even the one chastising him ceased to do so, bemused by his abrupt outburst. What could he do to help it? A vile demon had spun his mind into an empty red vortex then flung it right back out, and he was about ready to let it drag him inside again.

He stared at the ground, wishing for a hole to open up beneath him so he would fall into a lightless abyss. Saying he felt guilty would have been an understatement—it wasn't fair on this girl when she didn't even realise what the problem was to begin with. Yelling so loudly because of such a small matter was ridiculous, even for him! But they couldn't understand—he had been given a name, yet nobody would call him by such. His parents, yes, sometimes his relatives, and his friends when nobody was there; but he didn't want to be regarded as 'the prince' by the rest of them. He just wanted to be normal—he just wanted to be 'Ash.'

Would it have been selfish to say he was fed up of all this?

"How long do you intend on sitting there, you idiot?"

Ash looked at the hand outstretched before him with wide eyes.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite, you know!" He would have loved to comment on that, but decided to keep his mouth shut—otherwise she really would have bitten him, right into his veins. "Come on. Get up."

His gaze cast downwards, he took her hand and allowed her to haul him up. She was surprisingly strong—for a girl, that is.

The redhead jabbed his forehead and pushed his head up, forcing him to face her. Ash attempted to knit his brows into glare, but the finger that was twisting between them made that near impossible and made him look stupid when he tried.

"So you clearly don't like being called that," she sighed, retracting her hand to fold it with the other. "In that case, just 'Ash' is fine, right?"

"Yeah, that's fine. But there's no point in you calling me that anyway. I doubt we'll see each other again after this."

The red-haired girl flicked his forehead. "Oh, we're definitely seeing each other again! You need to pay me back for ruining this!"

The young prince was really beginning to get annoyed with all the abuse his head was suffering from, but he wasn't interested in sparking another argument. He eyed the ribbon in her hand, and again he furrowed his brow. "Why would you even wear that? It's not that nice anyway, and it doesn't look like it suits you."

Yet he just had to go and say that!

"You idiot!" Ash miraculously dodged the incoming mallet, and thank the gods he did, or else his brain would have been ground to mush with that thing. "My parents bought me this! It's not anything high-class like your stuff, but it's still important to me! That's why you need to compensate for it!"

"It's just a bit of mud," he frowned. "Why are you getting so worked up over it?"

"Were you listening to me?! This is important to me!"

"Who cares?! God, you are so petty!"

"What?!" He was doing an awfully amazing job at inflaming her temper, but it wasn't like he was at fault! She was the one getting upset over a stupid ribbon! It wasn't as if he had got his horse to crap on the damn thing! "Argh, I've had enough of you! You are so annoying!"

"I could say the same to you! And if I'm so annoying, why are you still talking to me?! Get lost, won't you?!"

"Are you seriously the prince?! You're so rude and uncouth towards a lady!"

"You are anything but a lady!"

"Excuse me?!"

Ash couldn't believe his bad luck! All of the little time he had left to spare was being wasted on this irritable redheaded beast! Brock was going to find him eventually, and he would be dragged back to the castle by the ear then forced to face the wrath of his father.

"Tell you what, just give that to me!" he sighed exasperatedly, snatching the ribbon from her hand.

"Wha—hey!"

"I'll fix this and give it back to you next week! Will that satisfy you?"

"Wait, you can't just decide that by your—"

He didn't let her finish. "Then I'm going! See ya!"

There wasn't a chance he was allowing the girl to intervene again—he swiftly turned on his heels and ran, ignoring the enraged screams that resembled a war cry sounding behind him. He was so anticipating his brief newfound freedom, but that peasant soured his mood. Yes, he called her a peasant! Normally, he would never call any villager by such a lowly name, but it fit her just perfectly! She squawked like a peasant, behaved like a peasant and had the temper of an unruly peasant! How had he managed to mistaken her for an angel was beyond the ability of his comprehension—which, admittedly, wasn't so odd; he never understood many things. That beauty was wasted on such a girl!

There was no point continuing this game—he might as well have headed back to his home. The time for which he was supposed to have returned had passed already, so he was bound to be punished severely by his father, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Only be a man and face it.

His gaze fell to the ribbon in his hand. It was quite clear it had suffered some damage before he had even stepped on it. If he requested one of his mother's maids to fix it, perhaps the redhead would consider it more than adequate compensation. Since that ribbon was so important to her, he might as well have mended the thing properly and made her a little bit happy.

He hadn't a single idea how he ended up in the horrid mess—but there was absolutely no way he would allow himself to be buried beneath it all. If he was going to get out of this, he would get out of it with 100% effort, and show that girl he wasn't an idiot!

Then a thought struck his mind like lightning would a tree, frying his heart and almost making him stumble.

Had he…asked for the girl's name?

* * *

 _So that's how the two lovey-dovey-wuvvey birds meet! *squeal*_

 _…Sorry if this isn't *squeal* material. It really isn't meant to be at the moment anyway._

 _I am seriously regretting writing so much now. Stupid me. Again, tons of unnecessary information, tons of other stupid stuff, and very amateurish writing—but there you have it folks! I really hope this meets your expectations, and if it doesn't… I'll send you apology cookies or something. In any case, really sorry for the rubbishness (yes, I know that's not a real word)!_

 _ **Important:** To the people who have listened to 'Witch Hunt', I am literally on my knees and begging you not to spoil anything for the ones who haven't. No, seriously—I am on my knees and begging you. And if the ones who haven't listened to it decide to listen to it now, then I've kinda basically spoiled half the story for you, if not all of it. If you're still willing to read this though, I'll be really happy!_

 _… I've got a niggling sentiment I sounded super desperate and stupid just then…_

 _I'll try to make it a little bit different from the song though, just so that it doesn't seem too… I don't know the word for it, so I'm just going to say "thingy"._

 _And I had tons more to say, but I've forgotten it all, so I think that's it?_

 _Anyway, thanks for reading guys! Please look forward to the next chapter, because it's going back to the present! (Imagine that being said in the enthusiastic way a host in a TV show says 'we'll be back right after the break!' or something)_

 _The Happy Pen_


	3. What is Now

_Okay, guys, sorry for the long wait! Well, I personally think it's quite a good period of time for a pause, but still! I don't know if you guys were waiting at all, but anyway, it's here!_

 _Uh, to the guest who always finishes off his/her review with_ "X's and O's Just a Guest"— _yes, I have written before. Other stories, I have written. You know, just with my own ideas and characters and the like. But I was always too shy to bring that kind of stuff out. So this is pretty much a huge step forward, you know, making an account here and showing off my imagination for the whole world to see and judge. Well, I'm going to be the stupid cheesy guy and say, it's thanks to all the people supporting me and reading this fanfic right now that I feel like I'm able to keep writing here!_

 _Oh, and as for the unnatural dialogue, I sincerely apologise for that. If you've read my profile, I think you'll know why I'm so bad at writing normal conversations. I often consider eavesdropping on others' conversations and using them in my stories, but… well, it doesn't fit! And it's rude. It's rude, isn't it…? Wait, could I be using the word wrong…? Gah, I'm hopeless!_

 _Anyway, I hope you can continue to point out all the abnormal pieces of speech so I can fix them in the future!_ _! Hopefully I'll be able to identify them on my own!_

 _And again, my writing level has seriously decreased in this chapter, because I'm too scared to bring back the tension, so please forgive me! Also, I had to rewrite this three times to get a decent feel for the story, but unfortunately, it's still unsatisfactory, so please do excuse its rubbishness._

 _And now, without further ado, here's chapter trois! Enjoy, folks!_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

 _(Sorry if that's annoying you guys, it just feels really incomplete without adding that there)_

* * *

 _~What is Now~_

* * *

For a moment—just for a moment—he wondered, as he regarded the ones standing before him, whether he was facing the same girls he had that distant time ago. They were so, very… _different_. There were not many words he knew otherwise to describe it. Even if he had memorised all the idioms ever known to man, he doubted he would have possessed the ability to explain the change in them.

They were still beautiful—much more beautiful than when he saw them last. Perhaps it was because they had grown older, healed from the damage that the villagers had inflicted upon them that they looked stronger, wiser, more mature and entrancing than the glistening moon. Or really, that might have been only through his view. Nonetheless, they were certainly the most beautiful people he had ever seen, even if they were from this small, insignificant village.

He couldn't help that tiny thought worming into his mind, yearning just slightly to see what she would have looked like now.

Just slightly.

That was all he was allowed to think of her.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty." Was it cowardly of him to want to believe in the gentleness of her voice? "I do not have the right to address you by your name."

How could he blame her? It must have required incredible patience to have to suppress her resentment—calling him by such would have shattered the tolerance she was working so strenuously to keep. Even if he couldn't feel it, and even if he couldn't see it, the disappearance of her aura already implied the bitterness that was doubtlessly twisting her tongue. She was always such an honest person—it must have been difficult to flourish that dignified facade, especially in front of him. He could understand. Just like she had no right to call him by his name, he had no right to be standing in her presence. In _any_ of their presence.

Yet in spite of knowing so, there still crawled a suffocating chill along his bones, her words like icy blades sinking into his skull, just that little distance away from slaughtering the home of his mind. Remorse dropped heavy on his head and chest, every muscle within his body aching with the desire to reach out for them. He had that kind of insolence, to still wish they would see him as they had seen him then.

That was beyond impossible now. He was no longer the 'Ash' that they had met all those years ago. He was the king—the highest representative of the blue-blooded. He had proven himself to be such that time, and now he amounted to nothing more.

"Your Majesty, I asked before, and now I'm asking again." Dawn wasn't putting up as wonderful a demeanour as her brunette friend was—every word that fell from her lips was low and raspy with a hatred more powerful than the devil's, her gaze daggers that could have slain a pack of beasts in a heartbeat. " _What are you doing here_?"

"Who gives a damn about what he's doing here?!" He all but winced at the rage flooding from Leaf's tone. "Has your power gotten to your head or something? Don't go thinking you can just waltz into anywhere you like, especially _here_! Get the hell out right now!"

"Keep your voice down, Leaf." That order was almost a plea from his childhood friend, and Ash peered sorrowfully over his shoulder to find Gary's gaze. What torture it was, seeing that burning affection smothered by his loyalty to him within those dark brown globes. "You are speaking to the king."

Leaf turned to her past beloved, a furious fire that burned brighter than his love shaking wildly in her orbs. "I don't care if he's a king, a god, or some sick almighty demon, you got that? I want all of you out!"

Ash swallowed thickly, but that did nothing to calm the fear pulsing in his blood, nor did it push his pounding heart back down to his chest. He had known her for only a year, but within that time, he saw every side to her that only a friend could have seen: her smiles, her glares, her tears, her laughs. The special ones, the ones that even a lover couldn't have witnessed. But never, not once, not even when the man she loved had betrayed her, had he seen her expression smeared with as much rage and resentment as it was then.

How difficult it had been, to repress his regret from crumpling his countenance, to keep bearing the ambience of the lord he was. He didn't think they understood the torment he suffered, that the guilt was devouring every inch of his heart, sullying every joy inside his memories.

What a fool, wishing they would just listen to him. "Leaf, please—"

"You heard her, didn't you?" His gaze averted to Dawn, the deadly claws of an animal clasping his throat. How could he have poisoned her to such an extent? Six years ago, he could have never imagined the vivacious and forever-smiling blunette to speak with such a spiteful tone; he could have never imagined that bright, cherubic face to be tainted by such a dark lour.

"Dawn—" he began, fighting the cracks in his voice.

But she didn't let him finish. "You've caused enough damage to us before, don't you think?"

"We only did what was right."

His heart pounding harder against the walls of his throat, Ash fearfully glanced at the seething emerald orbs fixed on the indignant young woman.

"Oh, please explain your definition of 'right' to me, Drew, because I don't get it!"

From the slimmest edge of the king's sight, he found May quaking, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric over her chest. Merely hearing his name was causing such misery to the brunette. Did he do that to her as well?

Ash's focus shifted again to the one who had been silent since she had spoken. What must he have been experiencing during that time, watching the girl he adored, at some point envied and admired, to bear a face overflowing with such wrath and venom? Perhaps others couldn't have deciphered the emotions behind those stone eyes, but he was his friend; he understood almost perfectly what he was feeling. Almost—because Paul's anguish was surely worse than his own.

"This was the priestess's verdict, and she is always right. She was a threat to not only Ash, but to the entire kingdom—there was no option but to eliminate her."

Dawn scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that is the exact problem with you people! Believing in stupid superstitions like that! The priestess is always right? Don't make me laugh!"

"Listen, Dawn—"

"No!" If the expression she wore before was the most powerful form of rage, then what it had become then was beyond the capability of being described with words alone. "None of you deserve to stand here, especially after what you just said!"

Her voice cracked and broke like glass smashing on a marble floor, a sheet of tears glistering like burning stars over her cobalt eyes. "For god's sake, just _leave_!"

"Enough!"

* * *

None of them were helping, not in the slightest. All they were doing was strengthening the devil whispering in her ears, taunting her, pouring oil into the flames she was trying to wash away. She was becoming sicker and sicker, truly sick with every passing second. How much more did they wish to destroy the air, until none of them could breathe? Oh, they were shoving toxic into her lungs, and it was all she could do not to choke as she yelled.

There was not even a sense of relief to loosen the grip on her heart when that deafening noise had ceased. Leaf and Dawn both stared at her with shock, clearly expecting her to have done the same as them. The age of the night had evidently worn their senses and logic. She wished, too, that she could have screamed at them and choked them and crushed them to the point where every bone in their bodies was beyond repair. But that would have given them nothing worth savouring. They could never win—not in a battle against the kingdom.

Besides—her loathing was never something she would use to kill. It was meant to be her strength, but not some disgusting weapon she would fling at every enemy. If she would hurt, she would hurt wisely. Not like they were doing.

"You two heard Gary, now didn't you?" she said gently, her sapphire orbs gleaming like the sheen of a dagger through lowered lids. "Before you stands the King of Kanto. Keep your voices down."

"But May—"

"Do I need to bow down to you so that you will listen?" she sighed—and she didn't miss the way the two of them flinched. She felt incredibly sorry for the tone she was using against them, but apologies could be made once they returned to their home. "Please, Dawn, Leaf. At least don't forget who is outside."

Initially, the two didn't understand whom she was referring to, as their enraged lours softened to quizzical frowns; and it only took them a single moment to grasp.

May turned to the king. "Your Majesty, I apologise on behalf of these two idiots. Please excuse their unruly behaviour." She was well aware of the scowls she received from her friends, but she ignored them. At least they had enough energy to do so, otherwise she would have worried, and she didn't have that sort of time at that moment.

The young sovereign forced a smile—or maybe it was genuine; she couldn't tell anymore. How odd, considering that he used to be so terrible at putting up an act only so long ago. "It's fine. Just let me finish what I have to do here, and then I'll go—"

"Stay."

The darkness had cleared from her sight, so she could see then—the shock that struck all of their faces. Clearly they had expected her to oust them from the cemetery in the instant their job was done, and she hardly blamed them. In fact, she wanted nothing more than for them to disappear and never come within her sight again, so she would have most certainly demanded they leave. But…

"Wha…" Even his flawless facade had shattered, revealing the imbecilic astonishment underneath. Perhaps there was a shred of what he had been before left in him after all.

"Rudy is standing out there. If he sees you…" She breathed sharply. "I don't think I need to tell you what will happen."

"Rudy?" Recognition sparked within his russet orbs, a flicker of hope behind. "So you care?"

May inhaled deeply, heat building up in her body as the ill desire to harm sizzled under her flesh. That thick muck was wrapping her voice in the most displeasurable manner, and the nauseating bile inside her throat was boiling like spume. She couldn't tell which it was now that was clenching her heart—whether it was her hatred or their presence.

 _Just one minute longer._ She kept repeating so in her head, fueling her will, draining the devil. _Just one minute longer._

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," she began, forcing her tone to remain calm and steady, "it is not out of care or concern for you. If anything, it is for Rudy's sake."

A sigh so quiet she could just barely hear escaped his lips, and his features soothed into his dignified demeanour, the air of what he was gathering around him once more. "I see."

Was he disappointed? Hurt? _Good._ That was the least he deserved.

Let the guilt swallow and kill him.

He let the flames do the same.

* * *

Ash hadn't a single clue how to fill the silence hanging over them like bats in a cave simply there to intimidate. He was quite conscious of the fact that they would have wanted anything but to have to listen to his voice again, but he was never too fond of lulls as uncomfortable as the one they were standing beneath now. His friends appeared to never have a problem with it, but he had the loquacity of a parrot, and he disliked not being able to speak.

 _'The loquacity of a parrot.'_ A sharp chill pierced his chest. Foolish. He had the nerve to use the exact comparison as she once had. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

He felt a sore nudge jab his side. "Are you alright?"

The king looked askance towards his friend, meeting orbs of an onyx hue cloaked in rock. It had been a while since he bothered to raise his voice, if only by a slight decibel. It was enough though—it gifted him a faint glimmer of relief.

But it was only faint.

"Yeah." Without any force, his lips rose into a plastic grin, eyes glowing a light that couldn't have been any darker. "I'm fine."

The ability to beguile was such an odd little talent, one which he had never possessed before. Initially, it was a skill that he refused to adopt and nurture. But now it was so easy and so natural to paste a smile on his face and utter fibs of reassurance, he began to wonder whether he had actually always been such a fluent liar. Then he would have been no different from her, he supposed. How strange he never got punished for it.

The mastery of deceit—that might have been the only thing he gained after losing her. Or it might have been a loss—the loss of honesty. That was fine though. His naïvety had pushed him into too many corners while it was there anyway. Being in the open and closing off others like he was now proved to be much better.

"We will be taking our leave now, Your Majesty."

A streak of white struck his vision and dragged him forth from his consciousness, his focus swaying as the girls that were kneeling before the grave rose to their feet. His senses were nearly shattered by the waves of spite rolling off their bodies, more powerful and destructive than a tsunami. Once again, May was the only one who hadn't anger and poison seeping out through her skin, her back poised and profile neutral. It seemed that honesty had abandoned her as well. But that was his fault—he erased the innocence that made her shine.

Was it just him, or had his head suddenly weighed heavier when it moved to nod? Perhaps that was his wish for them to stay crashing onto his skull. It was a presumptuous little thing though—maybe even a privilege if they deigned to remain beside him. That was what it had become, and that was all it was: a dream that had already deserted reality.

"We'll leave later. I've still got some work here, so…" It was almost ridiculous then, how difficult it had become for his lips to strain a smile.

Did May notice it? She had the strangest expression on her face. It wasn't entirely temperate and sophisticated as it had been earlier; rather, there was a certain darkness glazing over her orbs, the shadow of fires writhing within. That wasn't an emotion he was all too familiar with. Hatred was, indeed, his most vile companion that matched his every stride, but that kind was much more…obvious. That deep hatred was like his enemy standing right before him with a knife in hand, clumsily threatening he would take his life; it was a monster that marched beside him each passing second, clung to his head and never let go, making absolute certain he was aware of its presence.

But right there and then, he did not see a monster that was wishing for his death—not inside of May. What he saw was something much more terrifying than a common bloodthirsty beast.

"Forgive my lack of manners, Your Majesty—" Was he imagining the venom lacing her voice? —"I had completely forgotten to ask you earlier."

Even through his thick skin, he could still feel a chill snaking down his spine, his curdling blood freezing to shards of ice that tore though their vessels. His mind was playing its dirtiest tricks on him now. When one of the most harmless and kindest—and now the wisest of the girls were standing before him, how could he possibly feel such sickening dread?

Her ruby lips stretched into the perfect smile; and not until the moment they parted did he realise what she would say.

"Your Majesty," she began, her tone courteous and gentle and as sweet as the devil's voice, "how is your wife?"

In one instant, the broad and powerful hands of gravity seized his knees and plunged him beneath the surface of the earth; claws encased in rotting flesh grabbed his neck, his limbs, his every organ and pulled him down into the roaring fires of the underworld. She didn't hear it—of course she couldn't. What she must have heard was the demon lord urging her to kill him, drown him, burn him the same way he had done to her and the rest. What she heard was the voice of her loathing—but in his ears resounded the curses of the grudge-bearing remnants of the past. They were channelling _their_ regrets into his bloodstream, building _their_ towers alongside his own of remorse.

And she couldn't hear a thing.

Fighting the vice grip on his legs, he continued to feign his nonchalant grin and carefully matched her sapphire gaze. "She's fine." Who knew speaking such simple words could be so difficult a task?

"Is she now?" Her smile spread further up to her eyes, but couldn't form the crinkles of joy. "That's good."

Who would have thought that the blandest of words could cause such a vile flavour to twinge his tongue?

"May, what are you—"

"I heard she got evicted from the church after marrying you," she carried on tirelessly, disregarding the hisses of her friends' confusion. "She must have been devastated, the poor girl."

"She's better now." He prayed to every deity the world believed in that the cracks in his voice were his ears deceiving him.

"Of course. She is with you, so why wouldn't she be?"

They were harmlessly spoken, but he couldn't mistaken the resentment beneath her mask. How could such a light, kind and soothing voice resonate with as much anger and spite as her own? He couldn't help but wonder how long she must have honed those blades inside of her—and how long she had been waiting to strike him down with the same. She had been very patient—because each and every one of those swords were sharper than his soldiers', piercing his heart straight in the centre and gifting him the most lethal wounds.

"Oh," she gasped softly, her orbs glistening under the moonlight, and the shadows squirming within. He didn't have to think to know what she would ask next. "And how is your son?"

"May—"

Ash extended his arm in front of Drew when he stepped forward—his kindly warning to retreat. That was much more a gesture for May than for himself. She was already suffering enough; she didn't need anymore, especially not from him. If only hearing his name caused her to tremble so terribly, then him addressing her would have surely made her shatter, no matter how strong she was.

Drew wasn't the slightest bit pleased, glaring at him and his protests glowing fervently in his emerald orbs. But in the end, he was still under his command, regardless of his bonds with the king—so he hadn't any choice but to withdraw his feet. Ash needn't tell the others; they knew just as much he wouldn't accept their help either. Perhaps it frustrated them, but that was their order, and they could only obey.

He took a deep, painful breath, cautious to make it appear as naturally as was in his ability, and echoed his first answer: "He's fine."

His own words impaled his heart and deafened his ears, the monstrous regret that was his companion clinging ever stronger to his skull. He could barely identify his voice beneath all the deafening noise of the corpses burning in Hell's stove, and above their desires was the one he had to avoid. But what could he do to help it? When he was standing before her shadow, it was only natural to hear her, see her, and wish to live beside her again.

And then he remembered: he was the one who destroyed it all.

Clenching his fists by his side, cursing the prickling tears behind his orbs, he erased her image from his sight, and said so once more with the most beguiling smile pasted upon his lips. " _He is fine_."

How could he miss the fracture that formed in her mask?

"I see." Had she spoken any lower, he wouldn't have heard her.

She was brave—much braver than he had ever considered her to be. But hurting herself merely to hurt him… he dearly wished that she wouldn't do that to any of them. He could only imagine the anguish she was withstanding—that all of them withstood as they had to listen to them.

Ash fleetingly glanced at Dawn, who had silently stepped behind the two brunettes whilst he and May were speaking. From that one glance, he could see smudged black streams, like the stain of filthied blood, cascading from her shimmering orbs, her lips pursed and her trembling hands tightly clutching her friends'. She couldn't show that face to them—he knew well that would have been her greatest shame, to allow the people she despised the most see her in such a pathetic state.

Leaf, too, appeared to have been on the verge of tears, but she had greater control over her emotions than the young woman behind her. With a countenance brimming with loathing, she could battle the grief that she was suffering from. He had almost forgotten that she, too, was able to feign any expression that she wished for.

With a secure grip on Dawn's hand, and closing fingers around May's arm, she regarded him, forest green eyes glistening with tears that refused to be shed. "Goodbye, _Your Majesty_ ," she all but spat, her voice free of sorrowful cracks and running with all her spite. "I pray we never meet again."

A shivering spider creeped down the back of his neck, its silvery web a silky blade cutting into his skin.

Leaf forced her friends forward, and none of them spared a last glimpse as they walked past their old beloveds. Beyond the boundaries of his focus, he saw a hand reach out for them—only to pull a fist back by its side. His upper lip pushed its lower to the side, his shattered heart falling to its cage. That hand shouldn't have been so empty and alone. To think that when they finally found somebody important to them, he ripped apart their bonds—what sort of friend would have done such a thing?

He faced the grave once again, drinking in the words etched onto the stone, fiddling with the strip of fabric in his pocket—and he didn't push her away when she appeared once again before him. How odd that she was smiling at him. With so much faith in her most captivating viridian orbs, despite what he had done to her and her precious friends.

A sigh softer than the whispers of an angel escaped his lips. Before they had arrived—before they had met again after the long, five years—he had promised her that he would recover the love that he had broken. Not his own; what they once had was destroyed to such an extent not even a god could have brought them back together. She was too far from his grasp, so far that even if he had surrendered his life, he could never meet her again.

They couldn't let their friends make the same mistake. They hadn't yet lost each other; they didn't understand the worth of their loved ones.

He would have to later send his apologies to Leaf.

Because should he fail to fulfill his promise, _'she'_ would surely beat him down below the earth.

* * *

 _Gah, that took SO LONG! Do excuse the ending; my brain was failing to come up with something better, and this was the best stupid thing it could spew out._

 _Um, um, um… Yeah? Well, that's chapter three? Yes, I know it sucked, show me some mercy, guys! I seriously need new inspiration now…_

 _Let's see, let's see… ah, yup! A lovely guest asked me if I should encourage you guys to listen to Witch Hunt, and—this is to everybody in general—that is entirely up to you. I won't tell you guys not to listen to it or anything! But I have to warn you, listening to the song will probably give away the whole story and result in you not actually needing to read any of this. I have thought of some ideas that are different from the song, but I might decide that they are stupid and just go with what the song depicts._

 _If you are going to listen to it though, I highly recommend you listen to Fukurou's and Mac's version—I personally find their cover way better than the original (no offence vocaloids, you guys are wonderful, but your voices are just too electronic for my liking!)._

 _Also! I will be going abroad for my holidays next week, and I'm going to be forced to explore the beautiful country of "blah blah", so I don't know how much time I will be able to spend writing! I will try my best to update during the summer!_

 _And I sincerely apologise for making this speech so long…_

 _Anyway, thanks for reading guys! Reviews, feedback, or simply a smile would be very much appreciated! Please look forward to chappie 4!_

 _The Happy Pen_


	4. The Cruel Mistress's Sweet Hand

_I am so, so sorry for my late update! I know, I know, it's been over a month since I've updated, and it's totally inexcusable. Lately it's just been so difficult to write this story! My inspiration and drive are dwindling away… I had to rewrite this five times, guys, so please have mercy on me!_

 _…I sounded stupidly pathetic there, didn't I?_

 _Ahem! Uh, let's see… ooh, this will take a while…_

 _Okay,_ X's and O's Just a Guest _! Thank you a million and one times for your feedback! I'm not very good at taking stuff like that on, but I'll do my best to improve! The sentence structures is a really nice idea, but when I try to write short sentences, it suddenly looks so childish… but I will use that, because it really is good advice! And don't worry, I actually made a mistake with the makeup thing, I should have fixed that by the time I have uploaded this! I think I fixed_ one _of the unnatural lines of dialogue in the first chapter as well, and if it actually isn't better…well…hahaha! If you don't mind, do you think you could give me an example of sentences with words that are too long? I'm really slow and dumb, so I kinda need somebody to point that out for me… ^^; I'll find it out for myself soon enough, I'll make sure of it! For now, could you please help me out with my stupid stuff? You know, like an editor or proofreader or something! I don't know…but you don't have to…_

 _This message is also for you and_ Mrs. Nose _! I'm really super duper extra ultra mega sorry for not making it clearer on who's speaking! I remember when I was reading a book and the writer didn't make the speaker clear, so I had to re-read the entire page to make sure I was imagining the right person speaking, and I was like "Oh, Miss Author, why couldn't you be a bit clearer!?" and I was so annoyed. I'm so sorry I'm such a huge hypocrite! I was trying to sound all mysterious and posh, but I know that isn't always a good thing! Um, right now I'm trying to finish the story first and fix minor mistakes in previous chapters, but once I'm done, I'll see what I can do to change it up and make it clearer! Hopefully that's okay with you guys! And don't worry,_ Mrs. Nose _, you are absolutely not slow at all, it was seriously my mistake, and I sincerely apologise for it! From now on, their names will (or should mostly) be explicitly said. I tried to fix the one you pointed out, so if it's alright with you, could you check whether it's at least a bit better? Sorry, I know I shouldn't be asking a reviewer to do this kind of thing for me and instead figure it out myself, but… I'm just utterly hopeless… Oh, and thank you very much for your congratulations thing!_

 _Uh, to_ Laughing Mangoes _: I'm really sorry, there aren't any Pokemon in this fic since it's an AU. I'm so sorry, I should have pointed it out in the first chapter! I'm really, really sorry!_

 _And to a lovely guest—yup, this is Poke, Ikari, OldRival and Contestshipping! Sorry if that wasn't so clear, it should be easier to see in this chapter (or the next if not this one). And if you don't like any of these ships… I'm so sorry…_

 _Enough rambling for moi, I suppose! You guys, please enjoy chappie 4! (_ _And, AGAIN, please forgive my dreadful writing. This might annoy you, but I actually need to apologise in case it goes_ "blech" _. Also apologising for any OOC-ness!)_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

* * *

 _~The Cruel Mistress's Sweet Hand~_

* * *

Pounding raucously on the door of what must have been the fiftieth house he had visited, Ash gasped for the air his lungs painfully tried to absorb and his throat howled desperately to push out. A quintessential prince was supposed to be dignified, mature, and above all intelligent; exactly how did he manage to become the opposite of such? He really needed to ask his mother whether they had in fact adopted him, because he bore none of the traits a royalty was known for. As much as he hated to admit it, he was definitely the most imbecilic creature in the history of men; how could he have forgotten to ask the name of whom he had promised?

"Oh my God, are you okay?!"

Ash nearly toppled over to the ground when his support was pulled back by a stunningly gorgeous blunette, whose hand was cupped over her gaping mouth and cobalt orbs were wide in utter astonishment. Had he not been nearly as fatigued as he was, his expression would have perfectly matched hers—except his would have looked to be more idiotic than her beautifully adorable one.

Then he remembered that she had asked him something. Forgive the poor lad—anybody would have been baffled to see a young lady as arresting as she in an area like where the redheaded beast lived.

"I'm fine!" he stuttered breathlessly. "I was wondering if a girl with long red hair lives with you?"

"Red hair?" The girl's face paled at once, beads of sweat forming above her brow. "Uh, who are you?" Gods bless his stupidity, for he didn't notice the slight tremble in her voice.

"I took something of hers away, and I need to give it back," he wheezed, pushing back his pointed raven black locks as glistening droplets—the telltales of his exhaustion—trickled down his chin.

"I-I'll do it for you!" Her attempt at a smile failed worse than his normally would, her face so pale now that even the oblivious young prince had to have noticed.

And he did—but alas, he was still as dense as the hedges in his garden, so he didn't bother to properly register the sheer white panic painting her profile. "Actually, it's something really important to her, and since I kinda stole it, I want to give it back myself and apologise."

"Something important…?" An ember of realisation lit within her eyes, one which immediately made him regret his wording. "Wait a sec, are you the—"

"Dawn, who's at the door?!"

Ash's eyes nearly bulged to see yet another beauty come running to the doorway, sapphire orbs large with worry and messy caramel locks clinging to her neck. He had to wonder why he was seeing so many pretty girls in such a tiny and mediocre village, when even the princesses of the Hoenn Region didn't possess charm that could compare to theirs.

As the brunette approached the threshold, her eyes grew even greater than her sockets could hold, glowing with pleasant surprise when they met with his russet hues. "Oh my goodness—Your Highness?!"

If he could curse the gods without being damned to hell, then he would have cursed them so colourfully they would have been blinded by rainbows. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why they bothered to give her such knowledge! Couldn't she have been oblivious to the fact like her friend?

"Oh, sorry!" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She seemed to be genuinely so, but that didn't ease the grip on his windpipe or moisten his throat. "I was told you dislike to be addressed in that manner! Would it be alright for me to call you 'Ash' instead?"

An almost tender chill shivered in his bones. Perhaps that was strange to others, but to him, hearing somebody—especially somebody who he had never met—ask to call him by his given name was a wish close to a blessing, if it was ever granted. Had he been honest with himself, he still felt those sentiments of joy when that red-haired beauty had asked him the same: that light and gentle warmth singing in his chest.

"That's fine!" A jubilant grin brightened his visage, emanating a euphoric radiance as charming as that in his eyes. "You don't have to be so formal either!"

The brunette's lips spread into a benevolent smile. "Well then, Ash, are you here to give Misty's ribbon back?"

Though he may have been dense, and admittedly quite stupid, he had been bestowed enough intelligence to understand who was the owner of that name. Slight satisfaction filling the hole in his mind, he gave a small nod as he clumsily brought out the ribbon from his pocket. And he couldn't help the pride and rapture swelling in his chest when he saw surprise falling upon their features.

"The burns are…" The blunette trailed off, staring at the item in his hand with an expression so bemused that his grin split into a brilliant beam. "How did you…?"

"My mom's maids are pretty awesome. They can do this kind of stuff in seconds! I told them to leave the stitching and design, so it's pretty much the same!" He hadn't a clue why he was pleased about something that silly, but when they were so obviously delighted, how could he not feel the same?

"Really?" A soft twinkle of joy glinted within sapphire orbs. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I figured she'd probably kill me if I didn't give this back to her in its best condition," Ash chuckled awkwardly, a mixture of horror and annoyance cracking his grin. To this, the navy-haired woman gave a mild laugh.

"You're probably right about that!"

"Thank you very much." The brunette's gaze softened as she fingered the mended ribbon, and her smile became even warmer than dancing fires on sweetly-scented candles. "Misty will definitely be happy." With a polite cough as she cleared her throat, she gently took her friend's arm and moved them both to the side. "You wanna come in? It's pretty cold out, so I've made some hot chocolate!"

And once again the blunette's countenance was drained of all blood. However, Ash remained oblivious to her imminent protest and gratefully accepted the invitation. The distance between the castle and the village was not very short, and it certainly didn't help that he had to travel by foot—he hadn't the time to take his horse before his father or the guards found out about his escape.

So with a broad and ravenous grin, he stepped into their abode whilst ignorant of their anxious mutters.

* * *

"Let go of me, Leaf, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!"

"Godsake, Misty, calm the hell down!"

Ash stared irritatedly at the redheaded beast thrashing about in the second brunette's arms, licking his hot chocolate moustache and setting down his plate of cookies. He and the girls—May, the first brunette, and Dawn, the navy-haired woman, they told him—were enjoying the delectable food that the former had made, until _she_ suddenly burst out of her room and stormed into theirs. The second brunette—"Leaf" was what she had called her—was doing her best to keep her down on the sofa, but she appeared to be losing her grip.

First, the woman ruined his freedom, then she ruined their chat. She was quite rightfully a peasant indeed! Though she irked him to a dangerously high degree, that label brought a very amused smile to his lips.

"What the hell are you laughing at, you bastard?!"

And that smile instantly fell into an incredibly vexed frown. Wasn't she full of energy? May had told him that she wasn't feeling too well, but she seemed in perfect health from his point of view. More importantly, she was insulting him so blatantly again when he had very clearly said not to the last time! He couldn't remember a time his blood boiled so violently in the veins popping out of his skull, pounding in his head and pulsing heated waves of fury through his muscles.

"I already told you, my name is Ash!" he glared, thrusting a frustrated finger at her face, to which she all but bit at. "Stop insulting me like that!"

"Oh my, can't the weak and pampered prince bear a little offense?"

"Misty, that's rude!" Dawn gasped in horror and dismay, but Ash barely even heard her under the rage roaring in his ears, and he doubted the petty peasant did either.

"How about you listen to what he has to say first?" May sighed, but he was certain there was a vibrant, mirthful glint in her eyes. "Just sit still for five minutes and don't butt in. Sound alright?"

Though the fact she was deriving entertainment from their quarrel slightly annoyed him, he was thankful that somebody at least bothered to suggest the most obvious and desirable course of action. It seemed that the indignant redhead didn't complain either—clearly the brunette was well respected by her. She was quite the woman, being able to tame that irritable beast.

So Leaf, after a moment of hesitation, released the redhead from her grasp, and the girl known as Misty shifted to a more comfortable position, crossing her legs, straightening her back—he didn't notice her vaguely wince—and folding her arms, sizing him up with an intimidating lour. Well, normally one would have been quaking in their boots under her critical and furious gaze, but he was far too irked to be affected by that.

Remembering to keep a civil tongue in his head, Ash sat on the floor in the same position as the girl he was about to bow his head to—which aroused many raising brows of interest—and let out a puff of breath. (He really did wish he hadn't involved himself with her in the first place.) "I'm sorry that I dirtied your ribbon and stole it from you. It was on the spur of the moment, and it wasn't right, and I'm really, really sorry."

Misty gave a sour humph, which really discouraged any form of politeness and instead rekindled the embers of his anger, but he continued:

"I told you that I would fix it," he breathed, reaching for his back pocket, "and so I did."

The one thing he didn't fail to notice this time was the surprise lifting her countenance when he revealed her possession. However, it scrambled his mind when he couldn't see any joy or relief within her viridian orbs—at least, it did not resemble the happiness he was most familiar with. "The burns…" Her slender fingers delicately stroked the fabric, her voice lost in what he presumed to be awe.

Irked that she wouldn't take it after so much yelling, Ash lightly slapped the ribbon down on her palm and sighed again. "You wanted it fixed, I got it fixed. _Properly_ ," he added, laying stress upon his last word. "This way, you've got nothing to complain about —"

A light frown creased between his brows when he felt a warm, moist droplet splash onto his skin. Puzzled, he raised his head to face the red-haired beast.

She was crying.

* * *

It took all of Dawn's strength to suppress the tears tingling behind her eyes and keep the smile on her lips from quivering. Her skin was indeed too weak a shield against others' emotions. When one was crying, she naturally felt the urge to do the same; and when her friend was as happy as she was, then Dawn felt infinitely happier. Now her heart was leaping across vast blue skies and her cobalt blue orbs were shining with glee as she watched the frustrated red-haired beauty sitting on the sofa.

"What the—why are you crying?!" The poor prince couldn't comprehend the reason for her tears, immediately shooting up to his feet with his russet eyes alight with worry. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm just fine, you idiot!" Misty snapped, pulling out her infamous mallet (which Dawn herself had unfortunately been subject to at many points of her life) and smashing its terrifying face into the alarmed one of the heir to the Kanto throne.

From beside her, she heard a melodious chuckle hum behind the closed lips of May Maple, who then leaned over to the assaulted man's ear. "Don't worry, she's just a bit embarrassed," she heard her whisper with a subtle wink. "She's actually really glad—she just doesn't know how to express it."

Ash's features twisted into one of utter disbelief and lividity as he rubbed his sore red nose, clearly unimpressed. Then the man returned his gaze to the red-haired beauty—and Dawn all but squealed when she saw how instantly his glare faded. "If I had known this was so important to you that you would cry about it, then I wouldn't have taken it in the first place," he sighed—he was sighing awfully much since she came, albeit quite vexedly—as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You shouldn't have taken it no matter how I felt about it! If you weren't such a—"

"Misty, there is a thing called _manners_ , you know," Leaf deadpanned, her tone dripping with bland sarcasm as she stood expressionlessly behind the sofa, where the redhead was sitting in a fashion that wasn't too well known for being ladylike.

Dawn bit back a deep and anxious breath. No matter how faint it had been, she had _seen_ her flinch when she settled into her seat. Even though both brunettes had muttered to her that she was now in better condition since the morning, she couldn't help the kindly little beast of worry that hugged her aching heart.

The object of her concern rolled her eyes—which were still glowing with tears, she silently noted—and snapped out a hiss at the one who reprimanded her. The beast squeezed uncomfortably tighter when an unwelcome suspicion of her pain invaded her mind. Hopefully this was just another moment of her little delusions (worry tended to do awful things to one's senses when fuelled by too many thoughts).

"I get it, I get it," Misty growled, returning her attention the prince. "I still think you're annoying, and rude, and haughty, and stupid."

Dawn stifled a giggle, trying to control the amusement that was bouncing in her chest. Unfortunately, the brunettes of the group failed to contain their own laughter, their snickers gracelessly escaping them as muffled snorts, while Ash made a dreadful attempt to keep his face from twisting into a resentful glower.

"But…" A shadow of terror devoured the glimmer in Misty's eyes as they fell to her most treasured possession. "…you got rid of something that I've wanted gone for a very long time—unpleasant memories, if you will."

A sharp pang struck the mirth that danced within the blunette, all joy and smiles falling from her lips as she stared sorrowfully at her friend.

"This is probably more than I could ever ask for. Heck, I probably owe you one now." Misty sighed heavily through her nose as she pushed a strand of fiery orange behind her ear, a dim glow of nostalgia peeking through the darkness in her countenance. "It's ugly, and cheap, and stupid, and belongs to a stranger that you absolutely hate—but you fixed it anyway."

She sighed yet again, lifting her eyes to meet that of the man's sitting before her. "Even if you are an absolute idiot, you've done me a favour. So thanks."

An awkward pause briefly passed, before she groaned almost irritatedly at herself and dumped her head into her hands. All that were in the room furrowed their brows, staring confusedly and expectantly at the woman on the sofa.

"I'm sorry. Let me rephrase that." Taking a deep, calm breath, Misty raised her head, her lips melted into the most sincere, tender smile, and Dawn felt the anxious beast release her heart when she found a soft, silver light flitting within her friend's orbs. "Thank you, Ash, for fixing my ribbon. It means a lot—seriously."

The young gymnast didn't believe she had ever seen the redheaded belle be surrounded by an air so bright and alluring. Really, she should have shown that expression more often.

She shifted her gaze to the raven-haired prince, and she had to, once again, suppress the excited squeal twirling in her throat. For a moment, she was almost certain that she saw bliss tinging his tanned complexion as his shining russet eyes widened. As imbecilic as some men may be, every one knew beauty when they saw it, and Dawn hadn't a doubt in the world that he was captivated by her charm, even if it was only for one moment. Oh, how she would have loved to have done a little pirouette when Ash grinned so handsomely at the ginger young woman.

"You are very welcome!"

Right then and there, the hard, unnerving sound of metal striking wood echoed through the walls, and Dawn found herself cursing whoever chose such a time to come and ruin their endearing moment.

"Who's that?" Leaf drawled, a mist of boredom glazing over her forest green eyes.

"I'll go and check!" Dawn sang, winking slightly _too_ conspicuously at the athletic redhead. "You guys carry on, I'll shoo him away!"

Misty's gaze narrowed into a menacing lour, but Dawn paid no heed and skipped jubilantly out of the room. It was the perfect opportunity for romance to blossom, and she didn't need any nuisances destroying the efforts of fate. It may have been too early to assume such things, but the blunette could only imagine how glorious it would be if one of her friends finally found true love, especially in their hopeless era. Then it would surely light a flame of hope for her own chances in finding a beloved.

Now—she needed to get rid of the pest buzzing around outside their home.

Her brows pulling into an irritated glare (which unfortunately didn't suit well with her cherubic features), she swung open the door and curtly spoke, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you—"

And suddenly she forgot to breathe.

Towering above her was a man with the most icy scowl she had ever seen etched onto a stony countenance, orbs of an onyx hue glaring down at her petite stature. Dawn's eyes subconsciously wandered his body, drool gathering in her mouth at the heavenly muscles accentuating his arms and the prominent abs of strenuous exercise. She almost mused why he bothered to wear that shirt when it did nothing to conceal them… and mentally smacked herself for the lewd images she just wholeheartedly entertained. The dark, enigmatic aura exuding from his fine body sent chills shivering down her spine and prickling over her skin—although she couldn't say she disliked it.

When her gaze locked yet again with his own, her heart was instantly set aflutter. She had seen many men as attractive as he, but there was just something especially entrancing about him. Despite his cold demeanour, he looked so wonderfully ravishing, and… goodness, the atmosphere felt awfully warm for such a frigid day.

"Is His Highness here?" His voice was deep and rumbling, low without the slightest trace of emotion. A dreamy sigh almost fled Dawn's lips as she relished in his sound. Even though it was void of any sentiment, it sounded oh, so deliciously handsome… " _Is His Highness here_?" Oh, it seemed she had stared for too long. Now hints of annoyance trickled into his tone, his glower deepening.

All in Dawn's mind had been ground to incoherent thought, and for a moment she was terrified that she would end up ranting unintelligible nonsense in front of him. Thankfully, her tongue worked faster than her brain:

"Y-yes, y-yes he i-is." But not to its best level, unfortunately.

The man rolled his eyes—they were so dark that she wondered whether they had ever shone a sliver of any light—and without any warning, he shoved the door further open and allowed himself in.

Clearly he had some problems with manners, but she could solve that, couldn't she?

Almost stumbling over herself, Dawn quickly locked the door shut and jogged after him. He walked faster than she could run, and he was so tall she was afraid that his head might have hit the ceiling of their living room when he stalked in. She was quite certain they were all engaged in some pointless trifle before—she could hear both Misty and Ash shouting at each other again—but as soon as they entered, all chatter immediately plunged into absolute silence. Now his seemingly permanent glare crunched into the most petrifying scowl Dawn had ever seen as his sight drew in on a single individual. Following his gaze—it took much effort to stop herself from ogling too long—she frowned confusedly at the prince beneath the amazed redhead (who knew what fight managed to throw them into that sort of position?). May simply smiled at the intimidating young man, while Leaf was blatantly gawking at his muscles and height.

"P-Paul?" Ash stuttered, his face stretching in horror. "W-why are you here?"

The man he addressed as Paul gave a small sigh, gesturing for Misty to leave him. "Your Highness, I've been ordered to retrieve you and return to the castle."

Though it was only fleetingly, Dawn was almost certain she had seen pain flash across Ash's features. "I get that, but why are you _here_?!" he exclaimed, jolting to his feet. "Like, how did you find me?!"

"That is none of your concern. We're leaving this place."

"Now?!" Ash's countenance drooped with despair, as did the blunette's.

"Yes, now. Do you have a problem with that?" Anyone with sense wouldn't have talked back, not when he looked so furious. He obviously had not enjoyed hunting down the heir to the throne, and it seemed that all he wished for now was to go back to the palace—and also to murder the raven-haired young man.

Dawn looked desperately at the prince. As he was so high in status, surely he could find an adequate reason to remain there and persuade this stunning not-so-gentleman to join them?

"But I haven't eaten yet!"

Yes, she was foolish for even thinking this man was capable of such.

Paul glanced at the plate of snacks and cups of hot chocolate on the table, and when he redirected his attention towards Ash, the prince's profile visibly paled. "You haven't eaten, you say?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay for a cup of tea?"

Dawn beamed at May as if she were a goddess, and the aforementioned brunette sent her a discreet wink as she exhibited her most winning, genuine smile.

Much to her disappointment, Paul shook his hand and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed Leaf clamp a heavy hand down on Misty's shoulder. The redhead looked terribly angry, and about ready to launch the table at him. She wasn't at all impressed with the lack of respect he was showing towards her friend, and in all honesty, neither was Dawn. Still, what could a young maiden do when attracted towards such a fetching male?

"Let us go, Your Highness."

Ash looked incredibly reluctant, but it seemed he was powerless against him. Perhaps a prince did not have as much freedom as Dawn had initially believed.

Releasing a crestfallen sigh, she and the girls accompanied the fine men to the door. She really had hoped that this wouldn't simply be the end of their meeting—what happened to fate's marvellous plans? Dawn gazed longingly at the dark-eyed man, who pushed back his plum purple locks from his sight and shot a brief, warning glare at her. Maybe she was being too conspicuous, but how could she help it?

"Hey, Misty?"

Though aware it was not her name he called, the blunette's focus eagerly switched to Ash, and beside her, she felt more than saw the redhead tense, quizzically furrowing her brow.

"Just for the record, I don't _hate_ you." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, a small grin bringing an attractive light to his countenance. "You owe me one, right? I'm coming back next week, so don't forget that!"

Dawn's vocal chords were being strangled by all the squeals begging to be released, her heart leaping out of its cage and thrills rushing through her veins. When she turned to see Misty's reaction, she almost tackled the girl into an embrace. The athlete never looked so adorable, her fiery orbs raging and brows drawn into a scowl and cheeks tinged a faint scarlet. The young woman's face was glowing so beautifully!

"I really shouldn't have said that," she groaned, slapping her regretful profile as May bid them goodbye once they left their house.

Dawn hardly even heard her. She grabbed her friend's hands, ignorant of her bemused glare, and began to dance jubilantly in the halls, her eyes glowing with brilliance that could overshadow the sun. The brunettes of the house stared nonplussed at the navy-haired gymnast, but she paid neither them or the ginger's protests any mind as she merrily sang and ecstatically laughed, her heart fluttering like butterflies in a flowery garden.

"You and I are getting boyfriends soon!" she yelled joyfully, twirling her friend around with such vigour the redhead's fingers almost cracked. "Imagine that, Mist! You with Mister Prince and I with Mister Muscle!"

"Wait a minute, Prima Donna, you like _him_?!" Leaf exclaimed, her jaw dropping to the floor. "Sure, he's hot and everything, but Dawn, he looks like he's never smiled in his life!"

"That's beside the point!" Misty roared, throwing off the blunette's grasp. "What the hell makes you think I'm going to go out with that imbecile?!"

"Oh, Lord, help me," May sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "She's totally deluded herself again with her matchmaker game."

"No, May, I'm serious this time!"

"You only met him for like, two minutes, Prima D, how can you suddenly just like him like that?!"

"Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight, Leafy dear?"

"Again, why do you think I'm going to go out with that pathetic excuse of a prince?!"

Oh, her friends had yet to discover many of the world's charms and beauties. The ballerina was no fortune teller, but she was absolutely certain that she had just found her dearest person out of all the alluring males. Even though it was only one meeting, surely there lied something greater within?

And as the prince had promised, they would all see each other once again. Dawn couldn't remember a time where her heart soared in so much elation and excitement for their second meeting, as the image of the cold and handsome young man filled every thought in her mind.

Fate was such a sweet and generous young mistress indeed, to grant them a chance for finding love in their small little lives.

* * *

 _Yes, I got lazy at the end, people—sue me!_

 _So, I hope you guys haven't forgotten that Misty and Ash aren't the only ones who actually found love, now have you? Seeing as Dawn was the 'love at first sight' thing, I figured hers would be the easiest to do. Did I mention I've got no experience with love? Are you thinking I'm stupid for writing a romance story then? I'm a sick and hopeless romantic that fantasises fairytale-like love with handsome men I cross in the street. Jokes! I'm still a hopeless romantic though. However, I'm not very good at getting those kind of feelings across, love and the like. Did I do a half-decent job, at least?_

 _Now I have to think about May and Leaf's meetings with their lovers… this is going to be difficult…_

 _I did tell you I'm one of those people who get bored with their own ideas, right? Is that becoming more apparent now? Oh, I'm hopeless… I actually think the first or second chapter was_ _the best chapter I've written for this. I should probably try and adopt that writing style again, because I'm getting too detailed with this one and putting in tons of unnecessary description again._

 _By the way, did you guys get why I named the chapter what I did?_

 _Also—say you guys haven't been reading my author notes—would you guys actually be aware of what time and setting this thing is written in? My cousin pointed that out (thank you so much, cuz, you are awesome *big thumbs up*!), and I figured I should probably clarify what Ash had done in the next chapter… or at least imply what he had done._

 _I had tons more to say, but everything's just run out of my mind. You probably shouldn't expect an update too soon—sorry! If you guys want to know the status of my next chapter, I will be writing in my profile how much I've done and whether it's going smoothly of if I'm struggling or if I've got a complete writer's block. I recommend you guys check it out at least once every fortnight to see how I'm going with it._

 _Anyway, I love you all to bits, and thank you so much for reading! Please look forward to chapter 5, because this time I'm planning for just a little more chemistry between one or two of the couples!_

 _The Happy Pen_


	5. The Burdens They Bear

_YES, I MADE IT ON TIME! I was so worried this would end up late! It's been exactly a month since I have updated! God, I'm so happy right now! Phew!_

 _To a lovely guest, I don't know whether you'll still be reading this, but I'm really sorry, I didn't understand your comment about thieves in the village! It's a good reminder for me, and I'm grateful for that, honest! But something about royal guards…? Sorry, I really don't understand! Was it meant to be a joke or something?_ _In any case, I'll definitely take that on, but if you're still reading, please clarify this for me!_

Mrs. Nose _, I am incredibly sorry that it's still confusing! I will definitely go back one day to make it clearer! I see I have confused you as well with the time period—I tried to alter the clothing aspect of this in previous chapters to try and make it suit the setting, so hopefully that will help clear this up a little! So, I might have accidentally misled a lot of you that the girls were dropped off at the graveyard in_ cars _, so I went back and edited it so you guys realise they were actually taken to the cemetery on_ horses _._ _I am slowly going to try to adjust everything to the time period, so I hope you (as well as everybody else) can bear with me for a bit! If there is anything else than confuses you about the time period, don't be afraid to highlight any of it for me—I'll go back and see what I can do to make sure it's clear (though as you can see, that is really not my specialty... ^^;)!_

 _And also, to_ LovelyPolkaDots: _thank you very, very much for your feedback! I have also noticed the extreme amount of description I've been using lately, and I'll try to cut it down (I can't make any promises though… sorry…). I tried to cut a little bit off the third and fourth chapter, but I'm afraid to do much more (really sorry…!), and it's still a bit rough so I kinda need to smooth it out a bit. As for the ending, I have a more or less solid one compared to WH, though it might be a bit, uh, unsatisfactory to a lot of you, I suppose. And the clothing… yeah, I suddenly realized you are very right about that… From here on out, I will avoid describing clothes in normal stuff, like when they're just going out for a meal or something, but since there will be a couple of dinner parties thrown about here and there, I would like to attempt describing older clothing—I'll try to be as concise as possible about it! I did attempt to fix that aspect in previous chapters, but if it's still a bit off in places, please don't hesitate to tell me!_

 _And to_ Cerulean Leader _: I'm super sorry, I really should have pointed out this was an AU! I just couldn't be bothered thinking of my own kingdom names, so I figured I would just use Kanto to lessen the work for myself—that must have made it really confusing, so I'm very sorry! And yes, you could say it's_ sort of _like a fairytale setting, with the castle and village and all. Except this is not exactly a fairytale. Everything will become much clearer as this goes on, I assure you! It's all meant to be a bit confusing at the beginning anyway and make people ask questions such as yours. Oh, and as for May asking about his wife… I'm not sure if I made it out very clearly, but the reason she asked was to pressure Ash and make him feel guilty for what he had done (which should FINALLY be told in this chapter!). It's actually just her trying to see if he still felt anything for Misty. At the same time, it is also hurting her and the rest, because they used to be such good friends with him, and they remember how happy they used to be until the dreadful ordeal had occurred. …Or something like that. Sorry if that sounds a bit awkward and wasn't so clear! And I see someone has been paying quite close to attention to my author notes! Patience is virtue, my friend—all shall be revealed in due time ;)_

 _And thank you everybody else for your lovely reviews! Even if I don't respond to you, please remember that I really do treasure your comments, and the reason I do not respond is because I actually only do so for specific reasons, like to apologise for/clarify something or to ask you yourselves to help me (sorry, that sounded horrible, it wasn't meant to be_ _!)! Otherwise, I don't tend to respond, otherwise it would take too long_ _—and you can see how much time it takes already to respond to the ones I do ^^;_ _—but please don't think that means I don't care, because I really do appreciate it and I read them practically everyday and it helps to keep me motivated (hopefully that didn't sound too creepy)!_

 _Enough of my rambling! Here's your long-awaited(?) chapter 5, folks! Enjoy, hate or criticise (or critici_ z _e, whatever spelling you guys are more comfortable with) to your heart's content!_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

* * *

 _~The Burdens They Bear~_

* * *

"Your Majesty, here is the file that you requested."

With a slight nod, Ash muttered his thanks and took the papers from the soldier, who was once his bodyguard in his days as a prince. The man's work in the army forced him to grow older than by one digit per year, and it had become visible in every way the eye could see: faint wrinkles sunk into his dull, hazel skin, strands of silver could be seen peeking through his spiky ginger brown hair, and now even his posture drooped and weakened at times. However, that was not to say he hadn't anymore strength left in his aging bones or sagging muscles—Brock still served well for someone who (with some miracle the gods granted him) surpassed his forties, and Ash was grateful that he still stood beside him, too.

"Your Majesty, you _do_ realise that your actions are equivalent to a stalker's, yes?" And yet the man sometimes acted as if he had not gained any sort of sensibility during all his time of life.

"I am very well aware of that, thanks!" Ash scowled, his cheeks heating at the vexatiously mirthful glint in his previous bodyguard's eyes. "I'm doing it for a good reason, so it's fine!"

He did not fail to notice his fleetingly tentative pause. "Of course, Your Majesty." Brock's lips pursed into a tight smile, the crinkles beneath his eyes deepening ruefully. "If it is for the sake of your friends, then that reason is almost as great as any other."

A lump of viscous moisture bulged in his king's throat, clogging his windpipe as it mercilessly ached and swelled. Ash knew the pain would be worse if he tried to swallow it down.

Tearing his mind from surfacing regrets, he fought away the claws after his heart and focused on the information in his grasp. The young lord ran his eyes through the texts on the first piece of paper, searing the delicately scribed symbols into his memory as he traced the dried ink. He kept on flipping through the pages, an odd sort of pain that, while as blunt as an overused blade, still struck his chest with heartbreaking disbelief—because each line his stomach digested was a sore reminder that they were not the people he had met six years ago.

A heavy, wistful sigh dragged through his lips, his pounding head falling into his hands.

"Is something the matter, Your Majesty?" Brock questioned, perking a vaguely worried brow.

It really shouldn't have mattered at all. But in spite of knowing all that he had done, and in spite of knowing he had broken that right, he still couldn't help but feel slightly… _lonely_.

But he had brought that upon himself. There was not much use crying over it anymore.

"It's nothing. Just remembering home, that's all." He drove his hands across his skin and dug the heels of his palms into his temples, cursing the blood pulsing so painfully in his skull—

And then cursing the fib he just spouted when it landed like a rock on his head.

Honestly, he had completely forgotten the fact he had deceived his family as well, and now the damned lie just reminded him of such. The man even requested everybody else in the castle to not let a word of his true whereabouts be slipped to his wife or child. Yet another sigh fell from his lips. He was such a deceitful busybody, truly.

"Thanks for keeping quiet about this."

Brock knew what he was speaking of in an instant, and didn't hesitate in his reply. "It is only our duty, Your Majesty," he smiled. "Besides—I do not wish for our kingdom to be bereaved of a ruler so soon. If Her Majesty discovers that you are not out for a mere conference meeting, then she will surely have your head."

"Nah," Ash chuckled—how lucky it came so naturally to him. "She isn't that kind of person. The most she'll do is cry that I lied to her." The only person he knew would have taken his head was long gone.

He waved his hand lazily in the air, warding off the thoughts crying to be heard. Now was not the time to reminisce the past, and by far was not the most pressing matter. "Hey, Brock?"

"Yes?" The said soldier's back straightened.

"What's the time?"

"Seven-thirty exactly, Your Majesty."

Ash hummed in a contemplative manner, staring intently at the last few pages in the file. "Is Paul still in his room?"

"Sharpening his sword, I believe." He had to wonder why that image was so vivid it sent chills down his spine. "I can retrieve him for you, if you ask me so?"

"Stop talking so posh and go get him for me, won't you?"

A deep, hearty laugh shook the grown man's shoulders, and he arched his back low for his king. "Your wish is my command, Your Majesty. I'll take my leave then, shall I?"

"Please do, before you suffocate me."

Brock didn't waste another second.

Releasing a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, Ash stood from his bed and sauntered over to the windows. Below were the villagers, loud and noisy and uncouth as ever—the shop owners especially with their frightening way of handling business—and above was a messy painting of dull azure, dark greys, and sullen whites. (The gods had been a bit lazy with their hands, it seemed.)

A sharp pang hit his chest when he found a stream of navy tresses amongst the dozens of people, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a cheetah. The clothes looked just as baggy on her as it did his once petty girlfriend.

How incredibly difficult it was to watch her.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, sinuous accessory—what was skilfully mended and yet dreadfully designed. But over the time he had come to know her, and even across the years he had carried this little misery, he found its amateurish simplicity almost endearing. Merely touching the horribly-handled fabric loosened the tension that gripped his chest, and—for some moments—made his monstrous companion rest in bed.

Nostalgia, its waves cold and unforgiving, crashed heavily on his body—and with the slightest hint of a doleful smile, Ash brought the azure ribbon to his lips. If the gods were with him—if _she_ was still with him, somehow—then that would not be their end. They couldn't be so cruel this time, not to those who didn't deserve it.

"Ash."

Jolting up straight, he spun around to meet dark onyx irises and a stern face blessed with a latte complexion—he arrived rather quickly, but that was even better for him. So he stretched his lips into a jolly grin, slipping his old lover's most precious gift back into his pocket. "'Morning, Paul."

The said man's gaze narrowed. "You didn't call just to greet me."

"True, true, very true!" Indeed, he was very fortunate to feign a laugh so effortlessly. Gently holding the ribbon between his fingers—and begging every deity the world believed in—his heart calmed into a steady rhythm, and he drew a deep, silent breath. "Actually, I've got a favour to ask of you…"

* * *

Her feet beating on the earth beneath her, Dawn Berlitz sped across the busy streets and between the bodies of chattering villagers—a few of which glanced her way in disdain (the more blatant fools. Their place was well taught in the art of holding a grudge for no good reason)—as sweat glistened and dripped down her forehead. She still detested that disgusting replica of water, but that was the price she had to pay if she wanted to remain close to her old friend.

Relief flooded into her fast-running bloodstream when a building surrounded by vivid bursts of colour came into view—her favourite rest stop. And just outside stood one of the most lovely people in the entire nation, waving so spiritedly her aqua blue pigtails jerked along with her body. Dawn would have smiled if she hadn't been nearly so tired. "Hey, Marina!"

"Hey there!" the said woman beamed, friendly joy flitting within her orbs when her fellow blunette slowed to a halt in front of her. "What would you like: lemonade or water?"

"Water, _please_!"

Marina furrowed a brow. "Well, you sound worse than normal. Did you just use all your energy up in one spurt or something?"

An awkward mixture of breaths and chuckles huffed from Dawn's throat, her heart pounding in her skull as she held her twisting stomach. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so desperate to pour all her frustration into her legs, but she needed _something_ to rid her of all the stress scraping at her mind—after all, last night had not made for a pleasant memory.

And neither had that morning.

"Is everything alright, Dawn?" A hand rested on her shoulder, pools of shimmering teal meeting its sister shade. But when Dawn began an attempt to reassure her, Marina immediately cut her off: "Nuh-uh-uh! Don't take me for a fool, Dawn, I want to hear the truth and nothing but."

The cobalt-eyed woman's ribs gripped her lungs. "You know me too well, don't you?"

Marina's lips tried a gracious smile. "That's because your habits are just like hers."

Dawn needn't a brain to realise whom she was referring to. The aqua-haired beauty was sensitive enough not to mention her name, but every time Dawn remembered her face, suddenly the howls of desperate hounds rang so loud and painful that they tore her heart into shreds—pining for who they lost.

"Come on, sweetheart," Marina cooed, gently rubbing the young lady's arm. "Did you and the girls get into a fight?"

Dawn took a sharp breath, preparing to create a fib. "I—" But her tongue failed to concoct any pretty stories, and she instantly snapped her mouth shut when she realised the damn organ didn't care to save her.

"You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."

Oh, she really did despise those words, that gentleness, that complete lack of pressure—what else did it do other than coax her into spouting the most distressing truth?

"I didn't get into a fight with them!" her imbecile's mouth blurted, paying no heed to her mental pleas. "Leaf got mad at May because of her uppity attitude last night, even though May properly apologized to both of us for it, and she practically yelled the house down, and I couldn't stand the noise because _Lord_ , it was annoying and worrying and made my head ache, so I just ran out!"

The irksome spike of regret shot up her throat at the frown sketched across her fellow blunette's profile. Who was the wise fool that gave her a voice? Her mind and her larynx just did not wish to cooperate with each other no matter how much her frustration urged them to.

"May? Being 'uppity'?" Light notes of disbelief could be heard beneath the aqua blunette's puzzled tone. "That's odd, isn't it? What made May, of all people, act 'uppity'?"

Dawn hadn't a clue what expression she had made then, but she was quite certain it wasn't one that showed she was willing to tell, judging by the shaking of her friend's head.

"Actually, you don't have to tell me about that," Marina said with a sigh—Dawn hoped she merely imagined that slight tinge of hurt in her voice. "But if May apologised already, I don't see what's the problem. Leaf isn't so stubborn she can't forgive a friend's mistake."

Dawn bit into her lower lip. "I think she's just a bit tired. You know, because May's so..." She hesitated, groping for the correct term, a mild word. "Good," she decided. "When she says she understands, Leaf just hates it."

" _Oh_." Marina scratched beneath her ear, a faint form of understanding crinkling her features. "It's _that_ kind of feeling, is it?"

Now it was Dawn's turn to sigh. "Leaf's become so irritable, and May is simply… dear Lord, I don't even know!" she groaned. "I just don't want to go back for the time being."

She could only imagine the tension twisting the atmosphere of her home, and the dread of returning did not settle too comfortably in her stomach. To think the men they were foolish enough to consider their dearests could cause such trouble in their lives was terribly mortifying. How could they even allow those dastardly curses ruin their tranquil time? If Leaf's prayer wasn't granted, then Dawn vowed she would damn the gods to the pit of hell's cauldron, and kick them in their almighty faces if they tried to drag her down with them.

"Well," Marina breathed, patting the petite ballerina's head, "how about that drink, sweetheart? Flowers become nice and pretty after some water."

"I am a human, not a flower," Dawn deadpanned, feeling slightly belittled by the woman's height. "And I asked you for water like, ten minutes ago—"

" _Troublesome_."

And in less than a heartbeat her spine was shocked by jolts of ice. Sickness seizied her mind and wrenched all of its power, that name pealing in her bones like the crash of a gong. Why did she have to recognise him _so_ _easily_?

"Dawn?" She felt gentle hands clutch her arm, a whisper of concern. But it was so distant, silenced by the laughing demons in her head. The karma of her blasphemy—the gods could have gone and burned her at the wretched stake if they so desired, but why did they bring _him_ back? No—why was he even there? Why couldn't he just—

"You are not welcome here," she could hardly hear Marina speak.

"I am here under the orders of His Majesty." His mere presence strangled the little oxygen in the atmosphere. Her stomach twisted and jerked and clenched as bile tore at the back of her throat. Bitter poison seethed within her vessels, scorching her skin and churning her organs—yet why was it suddenly so _cold_?

"It's fine." Her voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and raspy as she struggled for breath. "Give him what he wants."

"Dawn—"

She didn't let her finish. "I'm going." Remaining there was suicide. There were many things she could do, but standing before him was not one of them.

So Dawn began to move forward, begging her system to purge her sickness—when suddenly a savage beast trapped her wrist in its crown of fangs.

"You and I need to talk." His voice was so tantalisingly, so heartbreakingly clear, reverberated in her chest without the slightest emotion. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she urged them to, her legs would not move—they _couldn't_ move.

 _"Talk to him,"_ muttered the demons in her head. How she abhorred the sweetness of their voice, free of malice and could be mistaken for an angel's melody.

"It's fine," she said again, the words leaving her mouth before she could deny them. Cobalt met teal, disgust and terror meeting anxious fear—but no matter what, she would not lock his onyx gaze. "It's fine."

And then she felt a smile against the flesh of her ears. _"Good girl."_

* * *

Shattering noise roared in her head, nausea vile like its name as it fervently spun her blood into vomit. Curse all the demons to the heavens and let them wither in the light. Dawn didn't know what sort of idiocy she had just acted, but regret was not being too kind to her for it.

"What do you want?" Toxic frothed and corroded her lungs as she mustered the strength to speak.

Silence was his most agonising answer.

Pain throbbed in every bone of her body as they reluctantly followed his great strides, her eyes looking at all except the figure walking before her. Waves of sweat soaked her neck in its coolness, an irksome pulse in her skull that dizzied her thoughts. Her tongue rolled as she searched for an escape, something to divert his attention or at least make him break their suffocating quiet—but of course, it did not save her. It never saved her. She tried to make her legs walk a different direction—they wouldn't obey her either.

Excited mutters sunk into her ears. All the women were marvelling at the man stalking so mysterious and tall. The sickness writhed when she remembered how she used to be one of them.

She now focused on the pretty and vibrant flowers in his grasp. Why did he buy flowers? Flowers, of all things. She might have giggled at the bouquet of scarlet roses in his hands—so bright and beautiful compared to the dark aura surrounding him—but she was far too tense to even think of doing such. And she wasn't very fond of those flowers. May couldn't stand the sight of them.

Why wouldn't he say anything?

Spikes pricked her larynx, threatening to grow if she didn't water them down. (She hadn't taken the beverage Marina offered.) Perhaps if luck decided to take pity on her, they would protrude from her throat and strike his own—that way neither of them needed to talk to one another, and she could head on her way home. Wouldn't that be marvellous?

Then at last, his lips parted—and the first words he spoke were ones she could not help but let inflame her chagrin. "Nice clothes."

In one instant, bright red heat and embarrassment flooded her countenance, a lump swelling and pulsing against her chords as revolting acid surged up her system. Was he going to ridicule her for trying to stay connected to her friend? Did he think it was a joke? That wouldn't be surprising. He wasn't regretting; he didn't care. Of course he didn't care. When did that cold, stone heart of his ever feel for somebody that was not the oh! so wonderful king?

He halted, and much to her dismay, so did she (why couldn't she just walk past him, or even spin on her heels and retreat?). Ice burned atop her head—he was staring at her. A terrified serpent curled in the pit of her stomach, just as sick as she felt. "Look—"

"Are you mocking me?" Even if the feel of her hisses seared her throat, she would much rather have them slay her voice than allow him to hear the cracks underneath. "Are you mocking me for trying to do something that she did?"

How could he sigh so tiredly, in such a vexed manner, as if speaking to her alone was a chore? "You know that's not what I mean—"

"Then what did you mean?" Her head shot upwards, glaring into the lightless eyes she had once been ridiculously captivated by.

He clenched his jaw, his mouth sealed shut.

"Go on then," she whispered as clear as her throat allowed, waiting so impatiently for him to respond.

He wouldn't say anything; he could never say anything. He simply stared, with a scowl so dark and so sinister that the filthy red of ire roiled her blood. So many times before, his silence had been a pleasure to savour—yet now it was such torture to not hear his voice.

"Goddammit, Paul Shinji, what the hell did you mean if not to make fun of me?!" She didn't want to yell like that—she didn't want him nor all of those foolish villagers that cursed her to realise her pain.

Yet another sigh grated through his teeth, resonating like crumbling concrete. "You are still this dramatic?"

Even then, his voice did not hint the slightest shred of guilt. Why did that have to hurt so much?

"You have to be joking," she scoffed, as harsh and venomous as his tone. "You think I'm being _dramatic_?"

"You—"

"Why do you think I'm being _dramatic_?" She let the vomit tinge her tongue with its disgusting and bitter spite, her brows drawing into a scowl soured by hatred. "Do you expect me to smile at you and fall at your feet and be ever so glad to see you again after five long years?"

And he had the audacity to roll his eyes, to think that she was indeed being a ludicrous theatre actress. "You are being—"

"Troublesome?" How she despised the taste of that horrid name—his weapon against her. "Very original, Paul—I applaud your imagination. Why don't you throw a couple more insulting names at me, see if I cry then?"

His natural glower deepened and contorted his visage, ice-cold rage seeping through his skin and into her bones.

Suddenly the powerful talons of a monster snapped around her arms, and a yelp escaped her mouth when she felt herself jerked forward. The ground below shifted and slanted, the world zooming past unfocused, her hand clasping onto the fabric of his tunic—and in a mere heartbeat she found herself in the darkness of seething onyx orbs. "Don't test my patience, _Dawn_." Her name sounded so dark and dreadful when uttered by his lips, and she all but shrunk back when he neared. "I am not here to argue with you."

She fought the cowardly urge to swallow, cursing the chills crawling so steadily over her body. His face was so close—she could feel his breath tickle her skin, tingle on her quivering lips. Her body was pressed against his own—she could feel her heart throb against his ribs, feel the hard and firm tone of his muscles. In that moment, she was in the arms of her predator, almost willing to be devoured.

But every time that vision, so blindingly focused in the blur of her mind, flashed before her sight—she could not help feeling disgusted by that desire.

"Why were you there last night?" Her words were spoken in a low hiss. "Why did you go to her grave?"

He replied immediately. "Because there was something Ash wanted to do."

"And what was that?"

His eyes narrowed, briefly averting; his lips slimmed, caging his answer. Dawn felt her heart sink. _He didn't know._

Excruciating grief drenched her body, scalded the nerves behind her orbs—and her heart fell prey to the sick ophidian within her stomach. The hounds howled yet again, their teeth tearing her flesh and gnawing her bones, and an overwhelming weight collapsed onto her body. There was something that she had wished for, a ridiculous hope that had flickered in her conscience.

But what was it she had expected?

"Let go," she whispered—she hated how she sounded so weak, how she could no longer meet his gaze.

"Dawn—"

"I said let go!" Burning anguish twisted her yells into gasps for air, cracking between each syllable that struggled to mould her words. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to hear a word you say!"

"You can't keep running away, Troublesome." He still had the nerve to call her that—that horrible name in his horrible voice, trying to pin her down. "We have to talk things out."

" _Talk things out_?" Such an idea felt so distant and foreign to her mind, as if it were a virus trying to invade her system. "Paul, do you remember what you had done?"

Her chest tightened. "I still remember." Every second was seared so carefully onto her memory, that even after five years she could not forget the slightest detail of that moment: the scorching sensation tugging beneath her scalp, the suffocating heat that nibbled on her skin, the jagged stone that grazed her knees, the calloused fingers that crushed her wrists.

She took a deep, shaky breath, the air so empty and tasteless that an urge to gag swelled in her throat. "Did you know? When you grabbed my hair and my arms and pushed me to my knees—today, I can still feel the pain."

Then she had heard screaming—screaming so pained and shrill they ripped past her ears and tore through the skies. Yet even then, it was drowned by the roars, the joyous cheers of the crowd who could hardly wait to watch her rot at the mercy of the embers. And they echoed so deafeningly that she couldn't even understand her friend's prayers.

She stared at his chest, not daring to look into his eyes. "I can still hear your voice, telling me to stop."

Worst of all was the sight—that horrifying sight etched onto her lids, the colours so vivid like a child's innocent paintings. Those bright and blinding hues of amber and crimson, dancing against the bleeding sun, as if they were so proud of their sin. The great cross that stood atop a wooden platform, charring and rumbling as the fires devoured its being bit by bit. Then the ropes that tied to it a poorly beauty, rags of a cotton dress weakly protecting her skinny body. Her visage so very pale, with viridian spheres of light.

That poorly beauty was crying.

Dawn just barely choked out her words. "And I still remember you forcing me to watch my best friend _burn_."

Yet through it all, just like he had back then—he said absolutely _nothing_.

"Do you honestly think that talking things out will solve everything between us?" The moisture in her throat was like soaking mud. "That we will forgive and forget what you people had done?" Her body trembled with the urge to cry; she knew he could feel it.

A fleeting pause stripped down whatever lie had laid on his tongue. "No."

His grip loosened, and Dawn jerked her wrist out of his hand. Without another word, without another glance, she spun on her heels and walked away, her relief drowned by torrents of loathing. All the villagers' glares prickled on her skin, their baseless spite pouring down her back like slabs of ice, not even slightly ashamed for listening with such rapture to their exchange—but for once, she found that she didn't care. After all, she was too aware that the fools were very well taught in the art of holding a grudge. Of course, that trait had infected her character—so naturally, Dawn was one of them.

Except she had a damn well good reason.

* * *

 _Whoa, I totally got lazy over there! I really didn't get into this chapter as much as I thought I would, and I really wanted Paul to have a bit more importance. I kind of found that Dawn just ended up cutting him off though… uh…_

 _So, more tension instead of chemistry. Again. And it wasn't even well done._

 _…Whoops._

 _Man, I really tried, but this was just so ridiculously difficult. I think I rambled at one point. Tell me if there's too much description somewhere guys, and I'll see what I can do to cut it down later. Actually, if this doesn't satisfy you guys at all, I_ will _come back to fix it._

 _Paul's entrance was pretty anticlimactic, wasn't it? I wanted to make it better, but my mind just wouldn't think of anything. That was the best I could do at that moment. Really sorry, folks!_

 _How was the revelation about Misty's "blech"? Too weak? Sorry! Just tell me guys, yeah? I will make an effort to make it better if it's not good enough! However,_ _since I already told you guys about how this was based off "Witch Hunt", maybe it was unavoidable that this would be too obvious and predictable. I had different plans, but after rereading everything that I had written, I figured it would just be too confusing, so I kicked it out and just went along with what the song depicts. I'm very sorry for the predictability!_

 _Did you guys think adding the fight between May and Leaf was unnecessary? Did you think Ash's bit was unnecessary? I just thought that, considering how I made Leaf, it would be quite in-character if I kinda chucked that in there, and that will be relevant in the next present chapter. And Ash's bit was necessary. VERY necessary. Whatcha guys think was in that file? :)_

 _Oh, and was Marina okay? I actually wanted to make an OC, because then I wouldn't have to had worried about in-character/out-of-character-ness. But then… I dunno, it felt odd not using original Pokemon characters, so… maybe I'll muster up the courage one day to make up some OCs._

 _Do you recognise any techniques I had used in previous chapters? That probably means I went back and deleted that technique. I can't even remember at what points I did that. Also, if you spot any incomplete sentences, don't be shy about being a nitpick or something and straight-out tell me, okay? ;) I'll definitely come back to fix it!_

 _Ugh, I wanted to say so much more, but everything's just fled my brain._

 _Hate, love, smile, frown, review—or just disregard this! Uh, I would prefer it if you wouldn't do the latter, but I'm so tired I won't care right now. I will later, however, so… sorry, no pressure!_ _Let's hope I update a bit earlier next month (probs shouldn't get too expectant though ^^; sorry…)_

 _The Happy Pen_


	6. Invitation

_I am so, so sorry, guys!_ _This ended up so much later than I had imagined._ _I don't know,_ _I really just lost my way a bit, and had to kind of rediscover my style before I could finally get my head straight and my backside down and my fingers poised for writing. This was rewritten over five times due to my lack of inspiration, and even then, it still doesn't satisfy me. It may be the worst chapter I have written to date (which,_ I know _, is unforgivable since I've made you all wait this long for an update… wait, that didn't sound conceited, did it?), so if it doesn't meet your expectations, I am incredibly sorry, and I will return to fix it all at some point if all of you agree that this is not good enough. Admittedly, I was a bit hesitant to upload this, not only because of its bad quality, but also because of my extreme lateness. But since I don't want to leave this, I upload anyway. Please don't kill me!_ ^^;

X's and O's Just A Guest: _Yeahhhh, I also realized the overuse of bile, froth, and vomit. It was really just to highlight that they honestly feel sick around them, but I'm guessing you guys get the idea now, right ^^; ? I did try to replace a couple of them in the last chapter, but that probably won't be enough, huh? Unfortunately, these words will be used repeatedly for at least 3-6 more chapters, so I really hope you can bear with me as I try to sort of change them around a bit. I sincerely apologise! Oh, I was very worried that it was indeed just some random event thrown at you. I am actually planning to delete that, since I don't like how I inserted it in the middle so unnecessarily. And the bodyguard bit has been changed as you advised! Also, don't worry, I fixed that bit on molding words! I had actually reread it and I was like "OH NOOOOO!" and I couldn't stand it, so I was like "I need to fix this NOW." Really sorry, it was my fault for not proofreading in the first place! The funniest thing is, you had reviewed the exact moment I was in the middle of trying to fix that sentence, and I was crying inside, wishing you had reviewed just ten minutes later… but I appreciate your review nonetheless! ;)_

Mrs. Nose _, the answer to your question is: this is the one thing I absolutely cannot spoil for you, or even give the slightest hint towards unless I put a clue in the actual story. My deepest apologies! I'm afraid you will have to be patient with me and wait for the final chapter before knowing what is the "unsatisfactory ending." Please don't worry about it—I'm just not 100% confident in my idea being the ending my readers wish for._

 _And_ emey oman _(sorry, this thing just won't let me type your name properly), firstly—no need to worry, I don't plan on giving up on this anytime soon! You're certainly right about me having tons of ideas for this—so many I'm scared I might have forgotten some already! Secondly—wow, is it that obvious I had been stressing about this? ^^; It's true that around the third or fourth chapter, my head started aching every time I tried to type a single letter into the document, but it's honestly gotten better. Now I don't stress out nearly as much, but of course, I do want all of this out as soon as I can so that nobody will lose interest. And even if I am stressed, once I get into it, I really enjoy writing the chapter! I am very sorry if I worried you, and that I made you wait!_ ó.ò;

 _To the guest who wrote "this sucks", I know now that that was you, dear sister, so I have deleted it from the review section ;p. Don't target my stories just because you're in a huff with me next time!_ -_-;

 _To a lovely guest, I'm afraid I can't properly assure you that my story won't be the exact same as the Spanish story you mentioned, since I don't understand Spanish and therefore do not understand a word of what is written in that fanfic, but I_ can _tell you for certain that I did not by any means have the intention to copy it! I was honestly inspired by_ Witch Hunt _, but not the vocaloid or Jubyphonic versions—rather, I was watching a Miraculous Ladybug PV which used a cover version of that song by Fukurou and Mac. (Yeah, one hundred people must be thinking_ "how the hell did you get a Pokémon idea from a Miraculous Ladybug PV? Go die" _but inspiration is a crazy thing and its chemistry with the imagination is what makes sparks fly off them_ _.)_ _Thank you for telling me about it, otherwise it would have been worrying if somebody reported this story! Please don't worry, I have planned a bit more than a few things to try and make sure this story does not completely follow the song and bore the reader from its predictability. However, if you notice that these changes are actually the same as the Spanish fanfic, please don't hesitate to point it out to to me, and I'll try my best to redo it! …Ha, this is huge. Sorry about that._

Alina122 _, you have my deepest apologies for making you wait so long. I had originally meant to have this out after a month, but…well, I'll explain myself at the end of this chapter. I hope you're still reading this, and that your exams went/are going well!_

 _Last, but certainly not least:_ RichardChin _! Apologies for the confusion! I had already explained to you about the situation to the best of my abilities earlier—I hope that it made a little sense! And if not… feel free to throw some rocks at me :) And if you're in an incredibly huffy mood, you can hire a thief to steal my tablet (if that's possible)!_

 _Why do I talk so much when I'm meant to be a shy and awkward introvert? Yeah, I find myself asking that a lot as well ^^; In any case, folks, sit back, relax, and enjoy/hate! (I'm expecting you all will do the latter this time around, since this was pretty rubbishly written—apologies in advance.)_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

* * *

 _~Invitation~_

* * *

"You want me to _what_?!" Misty slammed her palms down on the oak table, her voice rising to the shrill of a rooster, as she stared with the most resentful expression one could ever dare to make at the young prince sitting before her.

"Wait, let me explain—"

"No, I will _not_ let you explain!" she yelled, shoving her finger in the guilty party's face and fixing him with a petrifying scowl. "Why the hell do I have to do _this_ of all things?! Ask for something else! You can tell me to till the fields, cook for you, slaughter a lamb, go catch you salmon, give you my most expensive piece of jewellery, buy your next meal at a food shop—heck, you could even order me to be your _slave_ for a week! But there is absolutely _no way_ I'm going to attend a bloomin' ball in a bloomin' dress and go there as your, bloomin', _partner_!"

"Hey, that's rude!" he snapped, his face scrunching into a frown that couldn't even compete with her enraged glower. "Mind you, I'm not too fond of the idea either!"

"Then why are you even _here_? Get the hell out!"

"What the—just listen to me!"

"Why should I?!"

"Because _you_ owe me!"

"That was a slip of the tongue and you know it!" Misty roared. "Ask somebody else! You have the whole court kissing your toes, how can you not just go with—"

"Okay, people, cool your backsides!" boomed Leaf's voice, and Misty's heart nearly stopped when she felt a sore slap against her mouth. "Godsake, I know friggin' six-year-olds more sensible than this! I'm going to work now, and I don't want to come back seeing a dead body because of you, Firehead."

"Why am I the only one to blame?" she screeched through the pillow of skin over her lips.

"Because you raised your voice first, stupid," Leaf answered drily, her gaze narrowed into an impassive glare.

Rage bubbling in her skull, her brain sent floods of retorts for her mouth to spit—but then all her words thickened and mashed together in her throat when she found the faintest of shadows beneath her friend's eyes.

An animal clutched onto the muscle of her heart, hissing at her conscience from behind—a cowardly pet she had no choice but to carry on her chest—and her fury simmered down to the bottom of her mind, as she stared at those dark tones marking her skin. Those eyes never gleamed to begin with, but they were not so dull before as they were now.

A heavy sigh fell from her nose, laced with irritation that was supposed to be at her guilt. Leaf, however, had mistaken that for an admission of defeat—so with a satisfied smirk on her lips, she released the redhead and focused her attention on the frowning prince.

"Sorry about that, Big-Shot. She can get a bit mad sometimes, but she's a good girl at heart."

"Do I look like a blooming five-year-old to you?" Misty grumbled, her brow twitching with rekindled annoyance.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Ash merrily dismissed, the baseless pride glowing on his features inexplicably irksome. "You don't need to apologise for _her_ attitude."

"Excuse me?!"

"Shut it," Leaf snapped, cuffing her on the head. "I'm talking here."

Misty began to protest, but the brunette cut in before even the slightest sound could leave her lips. "Now, Ash," she began, her gaze shifting to the idiot on the sofa, "if Misty decides to go, can we come along?"

"I'm not going!" Misty yelled, but both parties were now blatantly ignoring her.

"Yeah, 'course!" Ash beamed, joy radiating so brightly from his face that stars would seem like shadows in the night. "You guys can stay in a room altogether or something!"

"Misty, you're going."

The said woman suddenly realised how utterly pointless her earlier concern had been—those previously exhausted eyes were now shining with the greed of the villager that her best friend was, and the forceful finality of her tone only made her regret feeling guilty from the beginning.

"Does anybody care about what I want?" she cried in vexation.

"Quite frankly, no," Leaf deadpanned, and the brief flash of her tongue only further provoked the beast of Misty's indignation. "Now, I'm off to work. You guys try to act a bit civil while I'm gone, a'right? Like I said already, I don't want to see a dead body when I come back." Her sight slowly moved to the red-haired athlete. "You got that, Misty?"

"If he's dead, he deserved it," the aforementioned redhead replied, a quiet growl rolling beneath her throat as she menacingly eyed the raven-haired fool seated before her, who threw back a pathetic glare. She could feel Leaf's frown prickle on her back, but she hardly paid it any heed, for she believed—with every drop of blood in her body—that she would have done their world a grand favour to relieve it of his irksome existence.

"Ugh, whatever," she heard her mumble. "See ya at the ball, Big-Shot."

"See ya!" Ash grinned, waving with such ecstasy that his annoyance from mere seconds ago seemed almost nonexistent. It made Misty wonder whether his heart was always so quick to leap onto another emotion and forsake the last.

After the soft slamming of wood, his mouth immediately opened once again (much to her obvious annoyance). "Say, what does Leaf work as?"

Her brow twitched—how could he have the insolence to pronounce her friend's name with such familiarity, as if he had known her in a past life? That alone evoked a violent urge to hammer his bones until they became as flat as sheets of paper, but she hadn't any sort of interest in incurring the kingdom's wrath for the moment.

"She's the village doctor," she grumbled in response, crossing her legs up on the sofa.

He hummed—the thin vibration of that sound induced a terrible ache inside her head—as he scanned the room. "That explains why your house is so big. She brings in a lotta money, huh?"

She sighed in exasperation. When all she wished for was a moment of tranquility, the gods seemed to do everything in their power to conspire against her. "The house is because of her uncle, not her. And," she quickly added, silencing whatever question was about to fly from his tongue, "none of this concerns you. You're avoiding the main point. Tell me—why are you choosing me to go with you to the ball?"

What impudence the fool had, to look so displeased with her magnanimity—but of course, she could not fail to notice that hopeful glint of relief flitting within those coloured windows of vision. "Now you'll listen?"

Oh, if only she had the choice.

* * *

May swallowed a rising yawn, her features crinkling with the effort and the surrounding noise dulling in her ears.

"You look awful."

"Thanks, Marina, I appreciate that," she sighed, handing copper coins to the aforementioned woman.

"No problem, sweetie!" Marina laughed. "Ah, but in all seriousness, what's the matter with all of you? This morning, when Dawn came around—with a rather dashing young fellow, might I add—she looked very tired." Then she paused, a sort of regret glazing over her blue eyes, and a rueful sigh fell from her lips as she continued, "And Misty did as well."

May tilted her head at the blunette's dampened mood, her brow furrowing upon the mention of the ginger's name. "Um…" She cleared her throat, and honestly could not help but ask what already had a glaringly obvious answer: "Is something wrong?"

"She broke my glass cup!" the aqua-haired lady abruptly shrieked, the sheer volume of her voice enough to frighten Satan into the heavens. "My new and only glass cup! Like, all I did was offer her some water, and then she just crushed it! With one hand!"

The weight of her assumably expensive loss landed heavily on the poor woman's head as she muttered her grievances. What a shame that May could guess the reason for the redhead's outburst (she would later have to push the girl to apologise).

"There, there," she cooed, gently assuaging the dejected woman's spirits. "We'll repay you later, okay? When we've got the money."

"Your house is practically bigger than the Lord of the Manor's!" Marina exclaimed. "How can you not have the mon—"

The brunette immediately slapped her palm over Marina's loquacious mouth. "Goodness, don't say that so loudly!" she all but hissed, frantic orbs of sapphire skimming their surroundings. "He's already ashamed enough about it, what will you do if he hears?"

"May, it's not as if he has the ears of a bat," Marina deadpanned, gently pushing away the hand muffling her speech.

"No, but what if he's wandering around the village? You know how sensitive the man is, he will destroy our house if he hears one more word about it!"

Her blank expression remained, but May still found a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "He would have done that ages ago if he was so angry."

"Yeah, if Leaf's uncle hadn't been so powerful, we would be in bits!"

"Oh, you worry too much!" Marina gushed, ruffling the anxious lady's hair. "Anyways, just tell me you'll give me my money back."

"Yes, of course, but only a little at a time," May promised, before frowning up above her brows at the fingers entangled within her tresses. "And might I remind you that I am not a dog that you can pet, but also a human being?"

"But your hair's so fluffy, you might as well be a little pup!" Still, Marina retracted her hand and rested her chin upon its heel, her chapped pink lips spreading over her glowing features. "Now, do tell me one thing—who _was_ that dark and handsome man beside our dainty ballerina? Is he her knight in shining armour?"

A giggle chimed in May's throat at the woman's housewife-esque speech. "Not quite, but she seems to carry a torch for him. You've heard of the prince's meeting with Misty, haven't you?"

"He's all she talks about these days."

Niggling at her mind was a suspicion that told her the redhead's words were none of praise. "Well, that man is one of his…subordinates, I suppose?"

"Ha! He really is a prince!"

"He's a good man though," she hastily added. "Slightly prideful, maybe, but he's very friendly if you talk nice."

Marina raised a brow, dancing white sparkles almost obscuring the teal of her orbs. "Is he now? Misty says he's 'the most uncouth and dastardly man in the nation that will plunge our kingdom into absolute poverty!'"

Slightly ashamed that she couldn't deny her friend's judgement (and that she found how Marina said so dreadfully comedic), May's mouth still prepared to defend the poor soul—until the quietest chuckle hummed in her ears.

She saw the blunette's eyes widen, and her mind warped into an entirely baffling form as she drunk in the pink blush rolling over the woman's face. "Goodness, sir, I am so sorry, I didn't—"

"Oh no, please keep talking," she heard a voice speak, alluringly masculine yet surprisingly sophisticated—however, she most certainly did not miss that vexing, mocking tone in which he spoke. "Listening to your chatter is quite entertaining."

His words felt irksomely akin to a finger prodding her patience. How could that man be so impudent as to spy on another's conversation? Sighing heavily, she spun on her heel with a frown drawn onto her features, and began to chastise, "Excuse me, sir—"

Until she found her reflection captured in deep pools of emerald.

Her heart all but shot back to her spine and broke its bone. Indeed, she lived alongside women that bore eyes of gorgeous greens, but his were compellingly different. While her fellow brunette's were forever dull, and her irascible friend's burned with blinding fervour, his had such a soft, clear glow, so vivid against the sharpness of his features and ivory tones of his skin.

How unfortunate that his countenance was significantly diminishing their elusive beauty. "You were saying?" he sneered, cocking his head in such a condescending manner his facial allure twisted into a galling expression of arrogance.

"I was saying," she started, trying with great difficulty to match his gaze, "that it's rather rude to be eavesdropping. Have you nothing better to do?"

"I could easily ask you the same thing." She hadn't a clue why, but that twinkle in his eye was not appealing to her in the slightest. "I didn't think villagers had the leisure to gossip when there's so much work to be done. Need I point out to you how rude it is to insult the prince?"

Heat rushed up her neck and set her mind afire. "I was not insulting—"

"Well," he cut in, "I suppose it is nothing unusual for villagers to do something so lowly."

However rude it might have been, she was very close to firing an insult at him—until she noticed the flash of gold on his earlobe, hidden carefully behind locks of an unusual colour. Her glare softened at the sight. One quick skim of his clothes, which were surely sewn from fabric of finer quality, and suddenly the reason for his conceit became (unpleasantly) clearer.

Her arms tensed with the urge to tie themselves tightly together, but she kept them firmly by her sides as she regarded him. "Are you looking down on me, sir?"

His lips rose into a smile. "No," he said, and flicked the chartreuse locks of hair sweeping over his forehead with one swift, majestic motion. "Not at all."

Oh, the arrogance rolling off his body was dreadfully taunting. That icy young soldier her friend had taken a fancy to exuded a very hostile aura the week before, but she was certain he was just tired and couldn't bother with formalities. However, this hubristic man was flaunting his superiority for hardly any acceptable reason, and very obviously trying to provoke the demons she kept on a leash.

"Anyway, you ladies are acquainted with the prince, I presume?"

"Oh, not me, sir," Marina began—and because she was such a wonderful friend, she simply had to add, "but May here is."

Once more, the aforementioned woman had to fight to keep her arms from knotting themselves when his bright green orbs rested on hers. "Is that so?"

For a moment, she contemplated answering him with similar hauteur as he had done—after imagining what she could have suffered for her impertinence, however, she banished the idea from her thoughts. "Yes," she answered, hesitance trickling into her voice. "Do you need something from His Highness?"

Even the crisp ice of the season seemed to have melted from his beguiling smile. And for a reason she did not wish to comprehend, the new warmth felt very… _strange_ beneath her skin.

* * *

"So," Misty began, her brows pulled into a frown, "let me get this straight. Your friend at church is too busy working so she can't go to the ball with you, you don't want to go with the noblewomen because you're scared of them, and I am basically the only other person you know who can fight off said noblewomen when they come to attack your chosen partner."

The brainless prince before her nodded.

"You're pathetic!"

"Shut up!" he snapped, once again daring to scowl at her. "Now you get it, right? I don't want to put your friends in trouble by making them attend with me instead. I can give you the rooms and the dresses you need, too, and you can come under the alias of another household name."

"And your parents won't notice?"

"Oh, no, my dad will definitely notice," he replied, waving his hand as if it was a completely trivial matter. "But he can't afford to make a scene when I'm the one who invited you. It'll look bad on me, and he doesn't want that. Besides, as long as you wear the jewellery that symbolises you're from a particular household, I don't think he can do anything to you."

All sounded well as he painted so colourfully on her commoner's canvas—but still the redhead released a frustrated sigh, the thought of one significant detail, blurred and dark in the glorified picture, paining her numb mind. "You're forgetting something really important, you know?"

He tilted his head, as clueless as the fool that he was. "What?"

"Use your bleeding brain!" she bellowed, causing the kingdom's baby boy to immediately shoot back against the sofa. "I'm a villager, you idiot, a _villager_! How in heaven's name do you expect me to dance and walk and use the same mannerisms as you high-class people when I don't know _how_? They'll find me out immediately!"

"Like I said," he sighed, the exasperation grating his tone like a glowing match to her temper, "they can't do anything against you. You'll have that jewellery with the family crest. My friend at church is allowing you to use her household's name."

"Why on earth is your friend working at a church if she's a noble? Actually, no, forget that, you still haven't answered my question properly!"

"Ugh, can't you just shut up and trust me?!"

"A demon is more trustworthy than you!"

When his jaw fell, Misty truly considered summoning her mallet to see how many teeth she could break. "What did you say?!"

"Do you need new ears as well as a brain, you fool?" she screeched, and instead settled for slapping his useless head—satisfaction tingled beneath her palm at his yelp, but alas, it was short-lived. "No matter how you look at it, this just doesn't work! Have you ever heard of a villager playing 'princess' at a ball? I'll get thrown in the dungeons, or better yet, _killed_!"

"I won't let that happen!" Those words seized her mind the moment they left his lips.

Her body abruptly stilled, the crimson fog of rage fading from her blazing thoughts as she stared at him, bemused by the intensity of his voice. And when her focus was truly, entirely wrapped in his, he did not waver. "I know that it sounds weird and impossible, but I'll do everything I can to make sure that nobody finds you out! You guys are under _my_ protection! You and May and Dawn and Leaf will go back home, and after that, I won't ever bother you again!"

Sincerity was a trait she had seldom seen villagers possess, let alone expected in the clouded hearts of royalty—yet there it was, glowing on the countenance of Kanto's heir, so vividly clear in those russet orbs.

What a troublesome person she had to deal with.

Slowly, Misty lowered to her seat, and she rested her aching head on her hands. There was only one thing she was absolutely certain of: she would not refuse anymore. Not because she trusted the prince to uphold his promise, but because she was not of such low caliber she would flee from her own words. However…

Leaf's weary eyes flashed before her memory—and the realisation ran like a spirited mutt through her mind. "One condition," she blurted.

"Huh?" Even a duck could not have produced a quack so clearly as he had done, and his ridiculously befuddled expression brought about a powerful urge to pound his face into the ground.

Reining back the seething demons of her temper, she heaved a tired sigh and leaned back against the sofa. "I will go with you to the ball on one condition."

"You're not in any position to _have_ conditions!"

"Do you want me to go or not?" she barked, vexation rekindling at the temerity of his tone.

Every lean muscle that formed his body tensed in reluctance—but once more, he sat on the opposite sofa and gave her the true attention she deserved.

She prayed to humanity's beloved gods that regret would spare her for the day.

* * *

"Misty?" May called into the house, setting the bags of food down on the floor. "I'm home! Is His High—" Her tongue faltered when the memory of his request struck her, and she quickly corrected herself. "Is Ash here?"

"Addressing His Highness so informally, you are a very presumptuous madam, aren't you?"

Irritation pricked her heart when that chuckle hummed in her ears yet again, and, suppressing a sigh, she turned around to meet the vibrant jewels of his vision. "Pardon me, sir, but Ash requested that I abandon all formalities."

"Ah, is that so?" He cocked his head for the second time at her, musing on her eyes, measuring her honesty. "I suppose that sounds plausible."

"I'm offended that you doubt me," May said, her gaze briefly narrowing at his before meeting her redheaded friend's—who, she mentally noted with a droplet of relief, was not abusing the poor prince. "Oh, Misty. I hear you broke Marina's glass?"

Guilt's appearance was only fleeting, before it immediately concealed itself within the thick, red hue that painted over the ginger's profile. "I had a good reason for it!" Misty claimed, but her defensive pitch and posture hardly composed a convincing act.

However, before she could once again touch upon the subject, Ash had inadvertently interrupted. "Who's that guy?" he asked with a puzzled frown, pointing towards whom she nearly regretted obeying.

New words quickly succeeded the old on her tongue as the brunette cast a sidelong glance at the young man. "Well, this would be—"

"I do believe that I am capable of introducing myself, Miss Maple," he smoothly intervened, flicking more powder of superiority from his hair—the dense, dusty cloud that followed in its wake almost stung the brunette's patience—before he passed by her and the red-haired runner. Misty's quizzical frown met sapphire eyes, her mouth shaping the words _'you told him your name_ _?'_ while she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Remembering the woman's refusal to answer her question, May simply pulled her lips into an unhelpful smile. And as she expected, Misty's frown deepened into a glare.

"Apologies for my belated introduction, Your Highness." Strictly deep with compulsory respect was that young man's voice, resonating still with power—and when May peered over the irascible lady's shoulder, there was he, kneeling before the heir to the throne with his head hanging low. "My good name is Andrew Hayden, but most would prefer to address me as Drew. I have been ordered to take you back to the palace so you may prepare for the ball."

Pardon her rudeness, but May had not expected the man to be capable of feeling any sentiment of respect, let alone exhibiting such so willingly—even towards the prince. Could one blame her? Even Misty's jaw had fallen to the floor, although her shock was most likely due to an entirely unrelated matter.

"Oh." Ash released a long, sad sigh, his hand reaching for the back of his neck. "That's too bad. I'm guessing that my dad sent you, right? Sorry about that."

"No, it is an honour. However, I would have imagined that you were already accompanied by a guard?"

"Ah," May spoke up, a slight twinge of regret poking her chest as the image of a certain navy-haired young lady flitted across her mind, "for that, I apologise. Our friend had requested his aid for a chore, and Ash had ordered him to do so."

"Abusing your power as prince is rather shameless, isn't it, Your Highness?"

Bubbles of laughter threatened to burst within her chest upon seeing the rufescent tinge on the prince's cheeks, but she tried to keep them from floating up her throat. Her friend, however, hardly made any efforts to quell her own mirth.

"Actually, I think I like this guy," she whispered to her through shaking snorts.

"Oh, hush!" May sighed, delivering a sore stab to the ginger's ribs with her bony elbow. "Anyway, Ash, what did you ask Misty to do?"

The prince's face immediately brightened with delight, his boundless energy exciting even the very essence of the air and dispelling all tones of embarrassment from his profile. "I think you'll like it! You girls get to go to a ball with me for three nights!"

Seconds passed her by as she stared at him, those words swirling around her mind with numbing slowness—and then they attacked her with such ferocity she all but fainted.

"Pardon? _Us_? Your High—" She visibly winced at her mistake, his request once more prodding her memory, and she carried on with all the calmness she could muster into her voice. "Ash, we are only villagers, you do realise? We have a house to look after and chores to do—we are already having enough trouble covering Misty's tasks just so you two can talk with each other. As much of an honour as it is, I don't know if we'll have time to attend. And…"

Her tongue rummaged through her brain for a plausible line of logic. "And we do not even know how to dance at a ball."

From the narrowest corner of her eye, she noticed a very peculiar glow emanating from the woman beside her, dazzling with such elation a fraction of her sight nearly ceased to function.

"I've already brought guards over to protect your house, so you're good! I can get some maids to keep your house clean, too!" Alas, those words whisked the redhead's candle of joy into an abyss of misery, and although May was slightly worried, she had decided long ago there was no point to questioning her mood swings.

"Also," Drew began, standing to his feet, "I don't think you need to be too concerned about the grace of your dance. After all, there are many these days who are lacking in such aspects." His emerald eyes clearly flickered to the prince as he uttered his last reassurances. "His Highness serves as a good example."

Ash's brows pulled into a frown, his face crimsoning once again. "I get a really bad feeling you're insulting me, Drew."

"You may interpret such however you wish," the said man smirked.

"Yeah, I like him," Misty needlessly told the brunette.

This time, May completely disregarded her friend, confusion creasing her delicate features still as it enwrapped the rolling giggles in her chest. "And this sounds more like you are doing something for _us_. I thought that Misty was supposed to be doing you a favour?"

"Oh, I'm doing him a _massive_ favour," the aforenamed woman growled beside her, all glee and mirth burned into oblivion by the rage radiating off her body, so intense the brunette could feel its spidery legs creeping beneath her flesh. "I'm attending the ball as this guy's _partner_."

"I'm not that happy about it either, but I don't have any choice!" he snapped.

"Please!" Misty scoffed. "You'd just wet yourself if you went to the ball with an actual noblewoman!"

"I dare you to say that—"

"You are choosing a villager as your partner?"

May almost thought she had spoken aloud, but the voice was slightly too deep and rang slightly too powerfully in the air to belong to her. She noticed her red-haired friend straighten the moment Drew's bright green orbs locked with hers.

"May I ask for your name?"

"I don't like formalities, so just Misty is fine," she replied, and the brunette could not help that small tingle of a chuckle in her chest at her slight discomfort—it was, after all, quite a rare sight.

His smirk broadened, and—oh, do not blame her, she was becoming very annoyed when he flicked his fringe _yet again_ with a flourish. "Well then, Misty, I suggest that you pray before we leave. As rude as this may sound, the noblewomen aren't the most… _civil_ towards one another in our court."

May's body stiffened as the warning wound itself around her mind, every nerve silently trembling with trepidation.

"Thanks for the advice," Misty grumbled with a grimace, and she ran a hand through her loose orange tresses. "Anyway, when is this ball? We have to pack our stuff, and we've to tell a friend of ours about our absence."

Amusement shone behind his widening eyes—and an immediate sense of foreboding gripped May's heart. "I suppose you did not inform them?" he sighed, looking towards the puzzled young man still seated on their sofa.

For endless moments, he stayed motionless, staring confusedly at his subordinate. In such moments, a terrible feeling of unease pulsed through her vessels with maddening slowness, every lagged beat of blood expelling icy sweat from her pores—then his russet orbs were set alight with what she feared to be a realisation.

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed with frightening jubilance. "I forgot!"

Misty's tension snaked through May's skin, coiling tightly around her limbs, as dread sucked on all the moisture beneath her tongue. Had she not known any better, she would have thought there was a glimmer of pity in Drew's gaze when it returned to hers—but neither his eyes nor his knowing smirk offered any solace.

"Ash," she began warily, his name heavy and wrapped in dawning despair, "please tell me the ball isn't tonight?"

And much to her dismay, his lips slowly spread into a sheepish grin.

* * *

 _Wow. This actually got updated._

 _WOW._

 _Okay, so I think I've got quite a bit of explaining to do, don't I? I've got reasons for not having updated for nearly half a year, but a lot of them aren't good ones. It's a long story, so you can just skip over it if you want to._

 _First: I didn't know what I was doing. Yes, I am that incompetent. I didn't know how I was going to make May and Drew meet. I didn't plan ahead, and I didn't do my research well either. I didn't establish the setting well in the beginning, and now I'm trying to make everything seem a bit less modern and a bit more old. Unfortunately, that required a lot of changes to my initial plans, but that was my fault, so just spit on me._

 _Second: I lost motivation. A lot of motivation and inspiration. I kept pushing this back for so long that all my inspiration just kept dying the second it flickered and it became harder to write. Once again, my fault. Now you can vomit on me._

 _Third: This is the worst part for me. Due to various reasons, I_ _started wondering_ _how my style could get better. I got more conscious of unnecessary description, but at the same time, I never put it in an amount I was satisfied with. Everything I wrote began to sound pretentious, and then childish. I looked up a billion and one ways to improve—about "show, don't tell" and purple prose and voice—and the more I tried to take their advice, the worse I got. The worst was purple prose—as you grow up, you're taught that description is good, the more adjectives and adverbs and imagery, the better. Then suddenly, I read that the best way to do it is to be short and blunt. Somebody tells me to do one thing all my life, then they break it down. You can imagine how devastating that is._

 _And fourth is, obviously, school. School is a hellhole. Tests are everywhere. Homework is piling up. Exams are just around the corner, and I'm updating when I should be studying (oops)._

 _All in all, it just sucked._ ^7^;

 _Now, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to warn you that updates will be ten times slower than normal—_ _the next chapter might not even come out until July, but I hope it'll be earlier. I'm going to go back to chapter 5 and rewrite it—it won't be anything major, so dear followers, you don't have to reread it if you get a notification. I'm going to eventually come back to this chapter and fix parts I don't like, because May felt a bit out-of-character in the scene she met Drew_ _. I'm going to apologise to you all very sincerely for the lateness of my update, the possible boring-ness of this chapter, and my possibly-annoying amount of seriousness about something that should be fun. I'm going to give you all big big hugs for bothering to read this far after my long long hiatus, whether you like it or not!_

 _I have a lot more to say, but I think I'll save it for later—any more and you guys might just start crying from how many words I'm making you read, because my notes are making this chapter look way longer than it actually is._ ^^; _As usual, just tell me if there's an incomplete sentence, misspelling, wrong use of a word, OOC-ness, anything that confuses you, and all the other jazz!_

 _Thanks guys! Hopefully I'll see you all soon!_

The Happy Pen


	7. Choking

_AHHHH, I'M SO SORRY THIS ENDED UP LATE AGAIN! This time it was more to do with school than any writer's block! I'm so, so sorry! On the bright side though,_ _my warning from last time turned out to be false! I just got pretty into this and finished earlier than I thought! I did as much as I could during my breaks in between studies! I think that's goodish news, right? Well, I'm pretty happy with myself about it!_

 _Anyways, since it looks like I've got some space, and I'm in a fairly good mood, I think I'll reply to all of the reviews for the last chapter? Is that alright? No? …Sorry, I do love you guys, but I need to ramble. If I don't ramble, I'm not a happy pen!_

Alina122 _, no worries about Drew! Since he does initially come off pretty arrogant in the actual anime, I tried to echo his personality in the story, so it's completely okay if you're not fond of him! Hopefully I can make him somebody you'll like later! In any case, I'm happy you liked the chapter, and thank you for your understanding!_

 _To my first lovely guest, thank you very much for still reading! Oh, in that case, there are absolutely no worries about your previous review! Haha, if it's Leaf, I've got quite a bit in store for her, so you can rest assured! Well, that is quite a lovely suggestion! Hopefully I'll be able to insert that in everything I've got, but unfortunately, I'm not very good at keeping promises… (_ ^w^;)7

 _Haha, my apologies,_ RekoFire, _but I'm afraid that I already have a twin ;) ! Maybe we are triplets instead? And_ _I completely understand your joy for writing! Isn't it amazing how much power words can hold—just black letters against a white page and yet they can be so intriguing? Aw, thank you for your praise! I'm_ _glad you are enjoying my story!_

kendraCs _, wow, it's lovely to have a new reader here after so long! Thank you very much for liking my story! Don't worry, I have a good few Contestshipping ideas in my head, and I plan to make more (for the rest of the characters too, of course)! Wow, I'm thinking I probably shouldn't have said there's very slight Amourshipping in my author's notes—it's giving the entire game away!_ ^^; _Well, I'll try to make sure you don't hate her too much (though that probably can't be helped)!_

 _Hey,_ X's and O's Just A Guest _!_ _I_ _t's lovely to see a friendly face! I was worried that I had lost a lot of my first reviewers, but it was a relief to see you still follow this! Wow, I'm glad that the last chapter satisfied you! Thank you for your piece of advice, I have replaced 'hottie' with other words!_

 _And finally,_ bigb360 _! Haha, Ash is receiving quite a bit of hatred from readers! Well, I hope that your hatred for him will, um… die down as you continue reading? Ah, I myself understand it can be tiring reading stories with introspective narrative, so I will try to tone it down a bit, but I'm happy that you're enjoying this story regardless!_

 _Anyways, I'll shut up and let you guys read. Enjoy, folks!_

* * *

 _~Choking~_

* * *

Pain danced along the bridge of his nose, but Ash tried not to pay much heed to its agonising strides across the blazing bone. Indeed, it was terribly vexing, but it was a punishment that was well-deserved—he was admittedly prepared to face such from the moment he had decided upon such plans. Although, quite surprisingly, the sizzling sensation behind his skin evoked a strange sort of nostalgia that bloomed within his chest. After all, he had suffered more than a broken bone in his younger years, due to _'_ _her'_ explosive temper and mighty mallet.

Suddenly, a streak of red scratched out the vibrant viridian, and those small flowers within him were crushed in the talons of a beast—his monstrous companion clutching his skull once again.

A slight chuckle escaped his lips, each note of rueful mirth edged with remorse. His own insolence never ceased to amaze even himself. How everything could remind him of her would have been almost ludicrous, if it weren't so pathetically deplorable.

The rhythmic beat of knuckles against wood reverberated sorely in his head, and he tore his gaze from the window's dull scenery to lock with limpid, emerald pools of vision. Subconsciously, Ash's fingers slipped into his trouser pocket and curled around his old lover's ribbon, a silent prayer aching throughout his body.

"Hey," he greeted, an effortlessly plastic grin brightening his face.

"Hey," Drew returned. "Brock said that you called for me?"

"That I did," Ash nearly sang, the words gliding off his tongue with easy sounds and joyful fluency as he fully turned to face him. "I just want you to do me a favour."

A brow was raised, doubt defining its fine and slender arch, whilst Drew's lips formed a vaguely amused smile. "Will I want to break your nose because of this favour of yours?"

Wrathful orbs of broken onyx flared in his memory, yet were as fugacious as any other recollection. The young lord's smile would have tightened, but instead a sheepish laugh prickled his throat, its soft edges sharply grazing the walls that confined his honesty. "Maybe."

"'Maybe,'" Drew echoed contemplatively, drawling the word in an almost mocking manner. "What had you done to enrage Paul to such an extent, Ash?"

Fear, as lethal as it was faint, stalked with caution around the border of his mind, pale blood pounding a breath of a beat faster through constricted veins. He watched the discreet flicker of scrutiny within gleaming green eyes, air dwindling in tense lungs and every hair rising under the icy pressure of his gaze. Perhaps it was too foolish in the end, to hope that he could let the matter pass.

Carefully hiding his heart under his sleeve, Ash raised the corners of his lips further up to his eyes and rested against the window. "My favour." Far too easy, for his tongue to feign such jollity. "You gonna do it?"

Those clear, bright orbs narrowed—squinting through the barrier for the slightest weakness, the slightest crack. "Tell me."

Ash was well aware of what he truly asked for—but he feigned the naïvety that he once possessed and evaded his advisor's demand, leaning further back until the sill pressed against his bone. "I want to make an offering to the church, but I've too many files to look at." He stretched his forefinger towards the stack of loose leaves sitting on his desk. "Think you can go instead?"

And Drew paused for a moment, considered returning to his primary concern—but then that critical glimmer faded away, and Ash felt his muscles relax ever so slightly. "Well, I don't mind," he began, "but why me?"

Ash hummed thoughtfully. "Should I get somebody else to do it?"

Silence lapped their words in their throats, Drew's smile fading as hesitance shrouded his features. Seconds passed them by, and a doubt prodded Ash's mind, persistent in its attempts to break his confidence. He gently rubbed the ribbon in his pocket between his fingers—its rugged smoothness soothed his rough skin, caressed the tense edges of his heart. It was a dreadful gamble, but it was preferable to giving another order—that would have certainly elicited suspicion from his friend.

And at last, Drew sighed, pushing himself off the doorway. "Then I suppose I should prepare."

Quietly indulging in the taste of triumph (only for the moment he did not deserve), Ash nodded his approval with a broadening grin. "Good idea. And Drew?"

The aforementioned man craned his neck, a question crossing his features with an insipid flitter.

"Please be careful with what you say."

* * *

Sonorous music pealed across the church grounds, and Maybelle Maple's head shot up at the sudden sound, her prayers plummeting to the pit of her mind as her focus tumbled into reality. All that sat around her stood to their feet and briskly scurried out the building, their footsteps resounding like thundering rain. Glares of the pious brushed past her skin with a fleeting burn (condemning her supposed audacity), but she paid them no heed as she kissed her intertwined fingers and rose quickly from her seat.

"May!"

Her own name caused her to jump, dread heavily dropping on her heart, and she spun around to meet eyes of a very familiar and pleasant teal hue. Relief lightened the weight on her chest to find that (for once) she did not have to meet another's disdainful gaze.

"Rather late, are you not?" she asked gently, battling the amusement twitching in her lips as she watched her friend nearly stagger over to her. Those green-tinged orbs rolled in their sockets along with her head, loose aqua locks following the motion.

"It took Lucas a _lot_ of persuading to cover me, you know?"

May offered an expression of pity. "I can imagine."

"Can you?" Marina sighed incredulously, before quickly dispelling the fatigue that had touched her countenance. "Well, whatever—I'm here now! You're coming to my store, right?"

When the brunette nodded, Marina's lips split into a delighted beam.

"Perfect! Wait for me, okay? I'll be done in a minute!"

May's brows furrowed together. "But the time—"

"God's available twenty-four-seven, sweetie!" Marina dismissed, cheer in her tone and nonchalance in her smile as she loaded her belongings onto her friend. "He'll understand my tardiness."

"Somehow I feel that Leaf has been influencing your attitude as of late." May did intend for her words to sound more disapproving, but they unfortunately strained as she struggled to carry all the older lady's goods.

"Maybe!" Marina laughed, already spinning on her heel and marching towards the gods and most likely preparing to demand plentiful harvest.

But then she stopped and turned back, her lips pursed together and an unfathomable sort of uncertainty scrawled over her profile. The buzz of doubt within May's throat kindled an uncomfortable feeling of confusion as she watched her friend return.

"Is something wrong?" she inquired. Marina chewed on her lower lip, evidently fighting to remain silent.

"Is Dawn alright?" she finally asked, a tentative note to her words.

Her question was met with a puzzled frown. "I should hope so. You met her this morning, did you not?"

"Of course," Marina hastily answered, the strange pitch of panic in her voice even more bemusing, "but these past few days, she's been acting…I don't know, like a drunken pixie!"

What a terribly accurate comparison—so much so that May all but flinched at its veracity. After all, it was only the day before that the blunette in question had spilt an entire pot of boiled water on Leaf's herbs in the garden. May had asked multiple times whether she was alright, and Dawn had insisted that she was—but when she asked whether something had _happened_ , a shadow would consume the light of her eyes, and May never received an answer.

Somehow, simply recalling such seemed to bring a… _suffocating_ sense of discomfort. Whether it was due to concern or fear, she did not know, but she wasn't much too fond of its grip.

"I mean, Dawn does not even _know_ how to stumble!" she heard Marina maunder on, her theatrical hand movements abruptly snapping the brunette to the present. "Like, have you ever seen a villager who runs and still looks _graceful_? How can that miracle of a girl even _trip_! It should be impossible for her to lose balance!"

"Putting your drama aside," May hastily cut in, "I'm sure Dawn is just a bit stressed." The ghost of her will squirmed within her chest—spite and wistfulness escaped her tongue when she spoke again: "Since a lot has happened lately."

Spots of shadow swelled like the pox in her vision. Already their voices began to echo in her ears, as jarring as a broken clock's chatter. Her heartbeat grew erratic, palpitating behind her breast—the powerful pulse of panic all but shoved her backwards into her memory. Night crept into her mind, sickness clenched her stomach—and suddenly their eyes were boring into hers, their presence was crawling under her skin, their aura was clasping her neck—

She gasped sharply; a fierce pain cut her lungs, and the darkness blinked back into the dirty daylight filtering through stained glass. Marina was standing before her again, so immersed in her own ramblings that she didn't notice May's spell of terror.

"It has to be because of that _fiend_ from back then!" she spat, the accusation barely registering in the brunette's mind—and in turn muddling all sense of understanding.

"'Fiend'?" That one word had dried May's mouth and twisted around her larynx as it was uttered—even the air felt thin against her skin, as if it had been throttled by the offending term. "What 'fiend'?"

"Hasn't she told you about Pau—" Marina abruptly stopped, a flicker of realisation lighting her visage, before her brows slowly knitted together. "Wait. _Did_ she tell you?"

A frown began to rumple May's features. "Tell me what?"

Surprise briefly crossed her friend's countenance—and then a haze dulled her bright teal hues, a sign which the brunette certainly did not miss.

"Nothing, I guess." Marina tried a reassuring smile, but the tension in her lips was too tight, too obvious. "It's not important."

Then a weak pang hit May's chest—weak, but harrowingly striking. Why did the two blunettes have to be so unforthcoming about the matter?

"Marina," she began, a clear and tired warning in her voice, "what are you not telling me?"

The said woman's sight frantically shifted from one side to another, her mouth shaping and dropping all sorts of babble, only heightening May's confusion. Never before had they been so loath to confide in the brunette; why was it then that they suddenly suppressed all their troubles?

The strangling clutch on her throat hardened. Oh, her blood felt so _hot_ in her veins, the tremble of a chill amidst the rush like needles stabbing a bolt of cloth. Every breath she tried to take grew more painful, burning her muscles and tearing her flesh, its biting tang a poison so awful she knew she'd tasted it before. Trepidation throbbed deep within her core, waves of panic rising to her head and a pound of nausea churning her stomach.

How strange—there was something amiss, but she couldn't quite grasp what it could be.

"I need to pray!" That was the barely coherent announcement stumbling from Marina's tongue before she made to flee—so fast that May had nearly forgotten to react.

"Wha—Marin—" But as soon as she took one step forward, her arms burned up under the weight that they carried, and a yelp escaped her lips when her legs buckled beneath her. The roars of the gods pounded on her eardrums, a dizzying dance of broken thought spinning in her skull as everything flashed black and aching white before her eyes. Then an abrupt pain struck her knees—and she hissed at the sore simmer that sparked beneath her skin.

"Oh my goodness, May, are you okay?" she heard Marina shriek, scarcely audible underneath the persisting pain and clangour in her head. "I am so sorry, I shouldn't have given you so much!"

"It's fine, it's fine." She felt the words prickle in her throat, but the sound of her voice was lost amidst the chaos within her mind—slowly, she touched her neck, and the suffocating emptiness behind evoked a strong urge to retch. Dark blotches of colour pulsed in her vision as she tried to blink them away, a dreadfully familiar feeling of unease beating behind her breast.

Therein lied the greatest problem—because she could not understand _why_ she felt such disquiet within her.

"Wait a minute, let me help—"

"May I lend a hand?"

Blistering fire thrilled through her bones like a shock of lightning—and all too suddenly did her breath vanish into thin air. Behind all those throbs of filthy hues, she found his shadow, cloaking her body like a phantom would haunt its prey.

"You must be joking." Venom dripped from Marina's tongue, so quiet May had nearly missed her words. "Why are you here?"

"If you must know, His Majesty sent me here for a small errand." Her skin tightened under the pressure of his gaze. "I suppose it's a good thing he did, too."

Hatred writhed fiercely within her empty chest, agonising as it clenched her heart. For a king so wretched and foolish, bringing about any good was beyond the bounds of possibility—had she not been standing on such thin ice, she might have laughed at his twisted judgement. But underneath those powerful eyes, she dared neither sound nor movement.

Above the thrum of panic wringing her mind, the rustle of cloth hissed in her ears, her senses drowned in the faintest fragrance of fresh roses. "I think," he began, speaking so softly it ached, "that you and I need to talk."

With the bare touch of his voice, all breath had ceased to wound her—yet a mere whisper from his tongue provoked her will like the purr of a demon, torturous in its temptation to brew malice in her blood. How could his words still carry such a heavy weight, still shake her so terribly after so many years?

A violent swish as loud as a slap against skin rattled her bones, a sudden clutch on her arm hauling her to her feet and Marina's shout reverberated in her ears like almighty thunder. "No, you stay away from her! After what you lot did, I can't believe you have the nerve to talk to them again!"

His tone sharpened as he uttered his next words. "Forgive me, Miss Sanchez, but this is our private matter. You are in no position to interfere."

Tension blazed within the brunette's limbs as heatedly as it radiated from her friend. For a brief moment, when she glanced towards the aqua-haired young woman, she found the embers of grief rekindle and simmer within darkened teal orbs. She watched in puzzlement at the slender fingers that clawed at her neck—and when May saw them clasp a string of gold, glinting from beneath aqua locks, she realised why Marina was truly so enraged. "How _dare_ you—"

"Don't do that to her." Oh, she detested the manner in which she spoke, her words so quiet they almost broke—but she couldn't let her friend face such misery for her own troubles, and she most certainly would not tolerate his disrespect either.

So she endured another stab of sharp steel from the air, inhaling the toxic scent of his aura—and she breathed all the ice she could muster into her voice. "Just this once, I'll talk to you. We'll talk, so..." She caught a glimpse of Marina's eyes, the anguish inside of them ebbing away whilst guilt flowed.

Dread gnawed her dried throat. "Don't do that."

* * *

Raw warmth boiled within her vessels as she nursed her fresh cup of tea, but May paid no heed to the burn. While it was hardly a solace, she could at least feign indifference towards the stifling silence, with its tender pain distracting her from the situation at hand. Regardless of its intensity, she could endure it—after all, it couldn't have possibly been any worse than what they had forced her lost friend to suffer.

"Won't you talk to me?" she heard him ask, his tone so patient it was almost galling.

Panic pulsated through her veins, but she glared solemnly at her tea as if it was another's blood. Considering it was he who had paid for her drink, however, such a comparison could very well be the truth. Her lips curled into her teeth as she contemplated her response. "It would be inappropriate for myself to initiate conversation when you were the one who suggested it to begin with."

There came a pause, brief yet so suffocating she could feel the vile essence of sickness stir in her stomach. "You're right," he sighed at last. "That was my fault."

 _But you're not sorry_ , she thought, each word accompanied by a biting sting as they sorely hit her mind. Still, she remained quiet, staring into the ugly hue of brown inside her cup and half-heartedly wondering what name to bestow upon it. Fear ached in her temples, a desperate prayer to the gods—but sitting with him, of all people, in the middle of the village, she highly doubted they would offer their aid.

"Can I be direct with you?" he asked—and she hated how gently he spoke, as if she were a delicate glass doll that would shatter at the slightest noise. It was almost ridiculous, that he could think it possible to break her any more than they had already done.

She didn't answer; her presence alone should have been a permission. May almost felt him breathe as much as she had heard it—did it pain him as much as it did to her, she wondered?

"Ash regrets it."

Those three sole words cracked like bullets in her head. Demons jolted forth and gripped her skull with ferocious claws, their searing hisses rumbling so close to her ears she could feel their black fires almost consume her logic. She had to clench her cup to char her hands, to feel the excruciating burn fight against that of the fiends in her head.

"I know this won't bear much meaning if I say so," he carried on, his voice like oil dripping onto their flames, "but he does. After what he…"

He stopped, revising his diction. "After what _we_ did—" She nearly flinched. "—he became a mess. He refused to leave his room for three weeks, and he hardly touched his food."

Her will fiercely beat vomit in her stomach, bitter spume on each wave of nausea that scalded her heart. She closed her eyes—hatred was not the same as malice, and hers was most certainly not some savage fiend. Should she wield her hatred, her strikes would be precise, they would wound, and they would hurt— _not kill_ , she must remind herself. Never would she poison others, not like their kind. All she needed was a chance—and he would hand one to her on a silver platter.

"He broke everything within his reach."

Drink his poison and spit it back at his heart; breathe in the air that he strangled and let it taint her voice. No matter how much it would torment her, it would be alright—so long as they bled just as much as she did.

"He is deeply sorry—"

"And what about you?" Ire seethed within her throbbing throat. She felt the burn of his gaze return.

"Pardon?"

From nights too close to be many ago, his words threshed in her voice box like a wild animal, fighting to be unleashed. Pangs of disgust struck every bone over her heart at the thought of unbinding such foul beasts—but still she forced her lips to open.

"'The priestess is always right.'" How she abhorred their cutting flavour, scorching her tongue with an acrid pungency and dripping cold spite. "'There was no choice but to eliminate her.'"

Her fingers tightened even harder around the cup—its intense heat devoured her skin. "Isn't that what you said?"

Neither of them spoke for what felt akin to hours underwater, the tension within their silence rising with every second that he squandered on seeking excuses and that she wasted on waiting. Why she waited, she hadn't a clue—he seldom paused when asked a question, and if he did, there was a very subtle, almost subliminal, hum of hesitation. At such times, she was unsure of whether to trust in him or not—most of all at this moment.

She heard him sip on his drink. He had found his answer. "I only said that to protect Ash." His confidence undulated with a powerful resonance, but the slow pace in which he spoke whispered of shame.

"So you would hurt us to protect him," she nearly spat, forcing her tone to remain even. "Your loyalties and your priorities—they haven't changed at all, have they?"

"You're misunderstanding me again." A heavy sigh rolled into the air, and its invisible tendrils wound around her throat, painfully knotting like a rope of leather. "Gods, I thought you believed in second chances."

"Then tell me how to forgive you." In spite of herself, those words tasted like a betrayal. Dark and ill emotions growled its warnings as loud as the demons that cursed in her blood—but she silenced both and pressed forward. "Trust me when I say that if I could forgive you, I would. I would do it without a second thought. But how do I forgive you and forget what you have done?"

"You don't need to forget." Hope softened his temper, tender notes of affection caressing her ears as if they were the tips of thorns. "We're not asking you to forget anything."

Toxic frothed in her lungs—and when her will twisted violently inside of her, she let its scream shudder in her bones. "Then I can't forgive you." The heat was beginning to fade from the cup; still its simmering burn felt like a scorching chill as it crawled through her flesh. She closed her eyes again, swallowing the venom that ached throughout her body. "It's as simple as that."

"No, it's not." Then there was a certain urgency to his voice, a gritty edge amidst his withering patience that chafed her heart. "You need to give us a—"

"You accused Misty of being a witch." They came out harsher than they were meant to, sheathed in a black anger rather than red, and as cold as the darkness when they pierced through the air. Yet in her throat, her bones, her heart, her core—just like the flames on that terrible night, they blazed with an agony that could burn hell to ashes.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was her friend's blood rippling within the cup. "I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."

Slowly, the demons fell back, her mind numb from the cacophony of their whispers and scathed by their fires—within its cage, her will writhed in anguish. She released the cup, leaving her drink untouched, and rose to her feet. "Unfortunately, I don't have as much leisure as you do to engage in pointless chatter. I have too much work back at home."

"Wait, May—"

" _Sir_." Pain throbbed in her veins when her name struck her ears, wrapped in his desperation—and when her own voice cut through his, it rent her heart with a stab of regret. A tremble all but racked her body. His gaze prickled on her skin; hers was fixed to the floor. "I need to leave."

She felt the crack in her words—and she knew she couldn't stay any longer. As fast as she could, she spun on her heel and briskly walked out of the food shop. Her fingers reached up to her throat, a sickening cavity pushing against the walls.

Brilliant viridian glistered before her, a flash of the most beautiful orange flitting across her vision.

When she finally inhaled the bitter air, none of its ill glory would flow to her lungs. Instead, it coiled into an empty mass of fear and hunger within her windpipe, whisking a powerful urge to spew out all the nauseating acid in her stomach until it became nothing but a void. Every part of her shook with a sore grief and her flesh screamed in torment—but she couldn't allow herself to crumple. She had grown; she had hardened. She couldn't lose against them. She couldn't yearn for him either.

She yearned for _her_.

May rubbed the sting behind her eyes away and drew another deep, hopeless breath. It still cut, it still bled—it still pained. But no matter how much that still small voice behind her heart lamented her actions, she would not feel sorry. When she stood before them, smothered by their tainted air, she couldn't cower—and she most certainly could not cry.

Even if it choked her, she still had to breathe.

* * *

 _Well, there we are folks! It's a lot shorter than I thought it would be, but wow, the seventh chapter is_ done _! Isn't that just amazing? It took a while, but taking two months isn't so bad...I think. Honestly, I should have been studying for exams, but my priorities are about as messed up as Drew's here. (But it shall be my main priority from this point onwards, so updates will probably only start again in July...I'm so sorry!)_ _Again, he's constantly getting cut off, poor soul, but I'll try my best to make sure the men have a chance to speak... somewhat..._

 _Also, I'm pretty sure you guys noticed the excessive use of heart, bones, fire, flame, burn, blood, bitter and stuff to do with suffocation. My sincerest apologies, but unfortunately, the thesaurus does not offer many alternatives to the aforementioned words. Of course, should you notice the repetition of a certain phrase, don't hesitate to tell me and I will try my best to avoid it! And if you see an incomplete sentence, I am honestly begging you to tell me. Even if that's the only thing you have to say in a review or something, just hit the button and I'll change it as soon as possible! Seriously—nitpicks are welcome!_

 _Oh, and don't worry about Marina's bit! It's meant to be confusing! ;) Really, it's never fully explained, but it just hints at a little side story that shouldn't have too much significance in the overall thing!_

 _And yes, I confess my crime_ — _I have never had a broken nose before. I seriously can't help it if my sister doesn't get mad enough to try and punch the ugly thing. So if anybody has suffered from a broken nose, then please do feel free to share your experiences and I shall make changes accordingly! ;)_

 _I know I want to say a lot more, but near the end, I just got so excited about actually getting it done I exhausted myself!_ ^^; _Lucky for you guys, you won't have to suffer through my long rants today!_

 _In any case, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It sucks like somebody just dumped whatever thesaurus garbage they could find onto the page, but I assure you I will come back to fix it all later! Dawn's reunion with Paul still needs to be changed a bit, but I will definitely get to that...eventually! Now all that's left is Leaf and Gary!_

 _Wow, it's almost been a year and I've only just finished Chapter 7… I'm dreadful with my timing, aren't I?_ ^^; _My s_ _incerest apologies, folks!_

 _Oh, and just as_ a little warning: _I will be changing the title soon! Yes, I can hear the groaning from the other side of the screen, but I'm not too fond of the current title, and I_ think _I have thought of a nicer one. Of course, I will give the date I will be changing the title as well in the A/Ns of the next chapter. I apologise in advance for any inconvenience!_

 _The Happy Pen_


	8. Unwanted Memories

_Wow, this child is finally a year old... and I'm only on the 8th chapter. Honestly, half of this chapter was done during the time that I was writing the sixth chapter, when I was considering making May and Drew meet later and have Leaf and Gary meet first, so that way, not only could I have more time to think of a solid plan for the former couple's meeting, but also not waste the number of moments I can use in the past-time chapters. In the end, however, with the advice of my trusty cousin (love you!_ ^3^ _), the former was chosen for the sake of the flow. The very very first parts were done while my inspiration was still in its early stages...before life killed it. My apologies…I do try…_

 _Alright, lessee…_

RekoFire _,_ _Aw, thank you so much for your praise! I'll do my best to keep your toes curled!_ _I'll gladly answer your question, mostly because I realised with your review that there is honestly no point in keeping this hidden: Misty is most certainly not a witch in this story. I am truly very sorry if the opposite was expected, but I personally don't feel comfortable with proving Ash's earlier suspicions to be right. She is very_ different _, however—but that is something to be revealed at a later date ;)._

 _Whoa,_ emey oman _, you're back! I thought I'd lost you last time since I didn't update for so long! Aw, I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! Hopefully you'll enjoy this one, too! Oh, and I'll try not to surprise you too much with random updates... I can't promise much, but I will do as much as I can to keep a better schedule, since the exams are over._

Mrs. Nose _, I_ _actually kind of understand what you mean. I personally enjoy writing the present time chapters more than past time, and it's understandable how reading about Ash being a happy-go-lucky idiot in the past can be annoying when we know he's committed a horrible…um, crime, I think. Haha, absolutely no worries about skipping through half of these past chapters just for pokeshipping—after all, they are supposed to be the main couple! Also, thank you very much for your advice (and I apologise greatly for it as well—it's something that's often pointed out to me, but I always get carried away with my writing without properly editing, and I know that's no good! Why I still do it, I have no clue—I think my skull's a wee bit thick, so hopefully you can forgive that!_ (^^;) _)!_ _I have attempted cutting bits off and swapping a couple of stuff around in the last chapter, but I will return to seriously improve it later, and I'll do my utmost to keep this piece of advice in the future! This whole 'third-person-limited' narrative is also tiring me a bit, so I will attempt at switching around the POVs a bit, too, once all these meetings are done and dusted._

 _Oh, and I apologise in advance for my poor attempts at humour in the beginning of this chapter! I just couldn't be bothered to delete it. Oh, but you know, I did actually edit this whole thing a lot, but before I could save it, my sister entered the room! And, well, it was exam season and stuff, so I was kind of supposed to be studying...and she would have told on me...or threatened me...so in a panic, I deleted the tab...and I couldn't remember a word of what I had written...hence I post this rubbish._ ^^;

 _Well, I'm pretty sure you guys are mad enough for getting an update this late in the day/night, so I won't keep you any longer! Sit back, relax, and enjoy/hate! (This was, again, pretty terrible and got a bit sloppy and repetitive, so I apologise in advance for any annoyance.)_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the plot and the story**

* * *

 _~Unwanted Memories~_

* * *

Misty was undeniably _pissed_.

There was no elegant construction of fancy idioms that could otherwise describe her mood. Perhaps saying that her blood was roaring to rip apart her veins and splatter over the target of her indignation would have sufficed, but that was more due to the fact that she had been battling the maids who were persistently scrubbing her skin until it glowed red. And then they hid their abuse with satin and powder.

She would later take her revenge.

Not against the maids, of course—against the absolute fool of a prince who had even put her up to this preposterous task. To think she would have to abide by that man's every word for the next three nights was beyond mortifying, and all because of her loose tongue. (What absurd sort of logic led her to make such a mistake? How could she even owe him any favour when he was the one who had started all their problems? It was absolutely nonsensical!) From their small group, she had always thought that Dawn would be the one to land them all in trouble for her thoughtless way with words, least of all herself.

"Hail the Lord, Misty's wearing a dress!" Speak of the devil and there she was, drifting towards the said woman with astonishing grace—it was a wonder she could even fit through the door in that horrifyingly wide petticoat. "I'm only joking!" Dawn laughed. "You don't need to glare so much!"

"Somebody looks right jolly," the redhead grunted.

"I don't get why you're not!" Dawn cried, so dramatically even a thespian would have flinched. "You've been asked by the prince to go to a ball, and here you are, sulking like a kid who just got dragged to a party that they didn't even want to go— _oh_."

Was she always such a slow little donkey? Her blood seethed with the desire to stain a new victim when the blunette rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Misty? Why are you so against this? He is a nice guy, you know."

" _Nice_?" Misty shrieked, spewing such bitter fury that her voice alone could have poisoned a horse. "That idiot stepped on my ribbon—"

"That was an accident."

"—demanded that I do him a favour—"

"You were totally asking for that."

"—and is feeding me to the she-wolves at the ball by making me his God-friggin' _partner_!"

"Misty!" Dawn gasped. "Don't blaspheme against the gods in a castle full of royalty! And don't call the noblewomen she-wolves either!"

Heat growing stronger in her system and seeping out her pores, Misty was far too ready to retort—until muffled yells from behind her cowering friend pricked her ears. Puzzled, she peered over the petite girl's head, only to find a comical heap of pink and white gowns near the threshold, as well as a tangle of familiar brown tresses.

"Prima Donna, a little help here!" a groan sounded, and emerging from the pile of cloth and skin was a face as pale as a sickly dove's, green eyes dulled by exhaustion and a frill-brimmed white hat slanted on her head.

"Oh my goodness, are you two alright?"

Misty never thought that she would envy the ease in which the ballerina moved—and wish that she had also taken the accursed activity of dance—when she realised that any stride she took would have resulted in her own fall if she tried to help. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she watched the young girl glide over to the two fallen women. How she could cross the chasm between the noble and the commoner, merely because of some extravagant _footwork_ , was almost as vexing as it was baffling.

"How can you walk in these dresses, Dawn?" May nearly stuttered, the shock smeared over her face as white as the powder that obscured her tan, clutching onto the blunette's arms for dear life.

"May dear, I am a dancer. I can walk in any dress I wear," Dawn smiled, heaving up her friends with unfathomable elegance and unfaltering posture. "Come on, get up! This messiness is offending your charm!"

"As if I give a damn," Leaf grumbled, brushing the slight mote of dust off her tight, fine wool sleeves—and she scowled when the blunette smacked her hands.

"No touching your dresses! You'll be a disgrace like that!"

"Hey, you may be a pretty-witty ballerina, but I'm not," she snapped—much to her navy-haired friend's frustration (and slightly to Misty's amusement), she continued to handle her flamboyant clothes. "I can't even _crawl_ in this, let alone walk. Honestly, those high and mighty snobs are idiots, wearing this sort of crappy finery!"

While the redhead rejoiced at finding a companion in their anger towards the upper-class, Dawn appeared histrionically distraught, loudly moaning, "Oh, Leafy, not you, too! They're noblewomen, you do realise? You can't insult them like that!"

"You shouldn't be insulting anybody in general," May inserted, pausing between her drawn-out words, as she stared at the crimson skirt stretching from her hips in obvious distaste. "You will be seeing them for the next three nights, so please try to tolerate it."

"And the only reason I _will_ tolerate them—" Leaf breathed. "—is for my bed."

Whatever joy Misty had felt then plopped into a little pool of disappointment and lukewarm annoyance inside her stomach. "Right," she drawled with a roll of her eyes. "The bed."

"You two are such typical villagers," May sighed, her frown no longer aimed towards her dress, but at her fellow brunette and the ill-tempered young lady. "It's just like you girls to fall for a bribe like getting to stay at the castle for a good few nights."

"I was _not_ bribed!" Misty yelled, the flush of her face growing even more intense from the skeptical deadpans being sent her way. "Besides, I placed a condition as well!"

"You threatened the prince?" May exclaimed, sheer horror further paling her features. "Misty, do you _want_ to get thrown in the dungeons?"

"Oh, I didn't threaten him either! Stop twisting my words, May, or else I swear I'm ripping that bun off your head!"

"How could you?" the said girl cried, her hands instantly flying to the artistic rose knot blooming from the back of her caramel head. "I like my bun, thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you could leave it alone!"

"Dear heavens, Maybelle, _you_ leave your own hair alone!" Dawn groaned, promptly smacking the brunette.

"Looks like you girls are having fun!" That merry, irritatingly familiar voice made the redhead's blood turbulently churn in her skull, and her sight narrowed into a glower when it laid upon the tanned, raven-haired male, who stood by the threshold in all his royal glory. "Can I join in?"

"Go die in hell, you son of a—"

"How about we _not_ curse at the prince and get ourselves hanged tomorrow, darling?" Leaf interrupted, the comical richness of her tongue contrasting the serious deadpan on her features. "Seeing your head snap off your neck will spoil my dreams."

"Swear in the village all you like, Misty, but please try not to here," May added.

"And Leaf, talk properly," Dawn admonished. "You don't need to be so dramatic."

"Sorry I took your job away from you," Leaf teased, and irksomely lolled out her tongue—a muffled giggle escaped May's lips while a strangled cough burst from Misty's throat.

"Oh, be quiet!" the blunette snapped, shooting her tongue straight back at the woman in the most childish manner—then her focus returned to the kingdom's baby boy, a beam as great and wide as her petticoat suddenly dazzling on her pink-stained lips. Misty immediately felt the caw of a crow shriek in her head (as well as a subliminal urge to retch) when the blunette batted her unnaturally long lashes, those large cobalt orbs sparkling with such disturbing desire it was as if she were a cat leering at a mouse.

"Will Paul also be there?" she asked, her sugary little tongue poorly disguising the _very loud_ note of lust purring in her throat.

Ash, however, with his skull being so dense it may as well have been hewn from lead, seemed completely oblivious to her obvious fantastical visions. "Well, he's guarding the gates right now, but in an hour or two, he should be on his break! Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason!" she sang, the apparently nonexistent reason slightly too clear to Misty's liking. The redhead simply couldn't find it within herself to feel relieved that the woman was in higher spirits than that morning. Honestly—if a rich maiden's dress and a stroke of lipstick could put the girl in as merry a mood as she was in then, it seemed her concern was unnecessary from the beginning.

"Well then," Ash began, the tap of his shoe catching Misty's attention, "should I help you walk?"

"No thanks," she snapped, each word sharply cut to disdainful perfection.

The skepticism creasing his features felt akin to an irksome jab in her pride. "Are you sure?" he asked, stretching each word with such uncertainty she almost grabbed his tongue and ripped it from the cavern of his mouth. "I mean, those dresses aren't easy to move in."

"You're going to fall," Leaf warned, glancing warily at Misty's florid attire.

How could they believe in her so little? Sitting in the palm of his hand caused her enough humiliation—holding it for support would have been no different from wedding a swine before the entire nation. Truly, it would have served her better to not surrender to him and walk on her own. Besides—if a dancer could strut so smoothly in such frippery, then why couldn't a runner? Her feet were just as skilled as any danseuse's!

Her heart swollen with pride, she haughtily declared, "I am just fi—whoa!"

A shriek escaped Misty's lips when she stepped on the front hem of her dress—and she was almost certain she could hear the gods laugh boisterously at her pathetic self, as she felt the ground rush up to her face and a blunt soreness abruptly hit her chin. For a long, vexatious moment, she lied there, as still as a log, feeling all dignity sag within her. Then the giggles of her dearest friends, as well as the snort of the royal fool, hummed in her ears.

Floods of warmth surged into her cheeks.

"So," went that most irksome voice, and she vehemently wished to shred his vocal chords when she heard the snigger within that single word. "You want my help now?"

The battle with her stubbornness was not easy to win.

Her reward for victory: utter chagrin.

* * *

Misty shuddered as the night breeze brushed against her neck, and she pressed the heel of her palm against her aching temples. While she had certainly expected the a spate of noblewomen's sharp, flowery tongues on her commoner's brain, she was almost baffled by their magniloquence—for the past two hours, she had to translate their gushes of fustian with her limited knowledge and retort just as pompously. They were even so uncouth as to try and make her trip—in all honesty, if Ash hadn't been beside her, she would have surely fallen.

Oh, but above all, the worst part of the night was greeting the king. She didn't know whether it was due to his status or his stern demeanour, but his eyes were not ones she would have liked to meet again. Surely she wasn't so lowly a sight to deserve such an abhorring expression?

A cowardly animal squirmed in her chest. How could that poor excuse of a prince have lived under that terrifying gaze for all of his years, and still be able to gambol with a heart so light?

"Here." It seemed that every time she thought of the demon lord, he never failed to make his grand appearance.

She raised her brows at the crimson liquid inside a delicate glass, which was gently held out to her by a surprisingly large hand. "Is this wine?"

"Yeah," Ash confirmed, nodding with a meaningless smile on his lips. "You can hold your liquor, right?"

"I can tell you confidently that alcohol isn't enough to make me lose reason," she said, annoyance seething in her voice as she snatched the glass from his hand.

"Have you even had proper wine before?"

His insulting tone immediately sparked her temper, but she stamped on the embers and generously let it pass. "Yeah, when I was five or six. My dad and his friends managed to save up enough to buy good wine from the merchants. He let me have a sip." A twinge of longing pinched her chest when the memory resurfaced, but she outwardly grimaced as it flickered in the back of her consciousness. "I don't think I actually liked it."

"That was ages ago though!" Ash exclaimed. "It doesn't even count!"

"Oh, shut up!" the redhead snapped. "It counts perfectly!"

His expression scrunched into a scowl, but Misty did not deign to listen to any more of his balderdash—blocking his irksome voice out of her mind, she brought the cool brim of the glass to her lips and tilted the wine into her mouth. Its gentle bittersweetness swept over her tongue and dried the substance lining her throat—in that instant, a strong fist of nostalgia punched her stomach. It was a vaguely familiar taste: richer than ale, more sickening than old aqua, coursing through her system with the fluidity of blood.

The flavor stung in so many ways.

"Um…"

Frowning, she turned her head to meet his gaze, only to find the man sheepishly avoiding hers. "Sorry about this, you know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Making you come to the ball."

"You should be sorry." His brow visibly twitched, but her heart hadn't the space to consider his annoyance when it already brimmed with her own. "I mean, you drag me to a place where I don't even know anyone, and make me talk to all these snobby, jealous shrews, and I have to wear a gaudy dress that's too blooming tight."

"I didn't drag you here at all!" he shouted, his infuriatingly idiotic countenance an insult to the gods' efforts. "You're the one who said you owed me!"

"And I keep telling you that was a slip of the tongue! Get over yourself already, idiot!"

"I keep telling _you_ to stop calling me that, but you still have the gall to disobey!"

"That's because 'idiot' suits you better than your own name!" she retorted, and with an angry 'humph!', she threw her head back with a flourish and slid her wine into her mouth, allowing its bitter burn to fuel her vexation. What a childish man, having his temper frayed because of silly epithets. Even on their first meeting (which she would forever curse the gods for) he had thrown a ridiculous tantrum over—

 _"Don't call me that!"_

The alcohol suddenly caught in her throat.

"Whoa, what happened?!" His astounded tone knocked on her eardrums as she spluttered, her brain briefly numbing and colours spotting her sight. There was a gentle grip on her forearm, warmth seeping through the tight sleeves and into her skin. "Are you alright? Should I get you water?"

"I," she wheezed, moisture stinging her eyes, "am fine. And don't touch me," she snapped, slapping his hand away.

Somehow, it seemed that the deities of the land were having a very entertaining time ridiculing her mind. That was the last memory she had expected to recall, especially at such an unfitting time. Although she couldn't deny that slight interest in his sudden outburst at that time…

A heavy sigh dropped from her lips—that wine was doing wonders to her thoughts. But once those three nights were over, she would be free from the madness of the blue-blooded, and could fish and work and run around the village in the mornings once again. His life was none of her concern, and hers was none of his.

So tying that thought to the embodiment of her sanity, Misty pushed away the helpless curiosity of man and downed the last of her wine. After all, there was hardly any point in wasting a drink of such good quality.

* * *

Pain sizzled in her blood with such ferocity Leaf was almost tempted to cut her veins and let every scarlet droplet spill. Whether it was in her head or in her cheek, it _ached_ like the heart of a bereaved lover, flashing that dreadful sight of protruding bones and young eyes and a mass of bulging red spots with every pulse. How frustrating she couldn't even hate the one who had inflicted such upon her.

"Is something wrong?" That slightly high, gentle voice tapped on her right eardrum from beneath the noisy patter of the nobles, and she turned to meet irises of bright sapphire.

"No," she sighed, her fingers lowering from her earring. "No, it's fine. What were you saying?"

Those big blue eyes brightened, a gentle beam glowing on her ruby lips. "Oh, I was talking about Ash and Misty. See, don't they look lovely?"

Raising her brows, she looked towards the aforementioned pair, whom she could barely spy standing on the balcony, and a vaguely amused smile twitched around her mouth. "My, my, Maisie," she drawled in the most sardonic manner, glancing sidelong at the owner of said nickname, "have you caught Dawn's matchmaker disease?"

"Oh, of course not," May giggled. "It's just nice to see her so relaxed for once."

Leaf was fully conscious of the pointed look being sent her way, but feigned unawareness, nodding along nonchalantly. "Indeed, indeed," she agreed, as she poured her wine through open lips, letting it entertain her taste buds with its pleasant, foreign tang. But she knew her friend too well to hope that she would allow the matter to fall so easily, and waited patiently for it to rise—though the irritation in her cheek was proving the task to be rather difficult.

"Leaf?" her fellow brunette addressed at last, and the said girl hummed in acknowledgment. "Are you alright?"

Of course May would ask such a question—and Leaf loved her for worrying about others as much as she hated her for it. Chuckling mirthlessly, she lowered her glass and said, in as casual a tone as she could manage, "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

She needn't look to know the tentative curl of May's lips or the worried crease of her brow. "Does it still hurt?" Hesitation diminished her volume, her voice feather-soft and gentle as it soothed her ears.

A long sigh fell from Leaf's nose, the pain continuing to char her flesh beneath her cheek. Truly, such concern was wasted on her. "No, it's fine. The makeup's covering it right up anyway. Oh, you know, you should have seen the maids when they saw the mark—seriously, the horror on their faces was priceless."

"Leaf—"

"I'm hungry," said girl suddenly declared, pushing herself up to her feet with all the power she could muster into her arms—standing up from one's chair with an open petticoat was not an easy feat, she had learned.

"Where are you going?"

"To get food," she answered simply, refusing to meet her gaze.

There was a tense lull in the distance between them, filled by others' nonsensical conversations and clinking glass and singing instruments. For a moment, Leaf expected her friend to glare and raise the topic yet again—but instead, she sighed, that ever-present trickle of empathy flowing within the stream of hopelessness from her throat, and good-naturedly asked, "How will you walk? You can barely take one step forward as you are now."

"I'll butt-bump everybody out of my way."

Then passed another beat of silence, in which Leaf simply knew her fellow brunette was giving her a look of reproach. "You're going to look like a mad duck."

"At this point, I don't think appearances are going to matter," she deadpanned, and just when May was close to spouting another lecture, she hastily added, "I will bring you some black pudding if you stay quiet."

The rabid mutt known as triumph bounced atop her chest when a scarlet tinge pecked May's cheeks. "Bribery is not a fair practice, Leaf!"

"Now, was I ever fair?" the said brunette wondered, a sly grin playing on her lips—and without another word from the stuttering maiden, she shuffled down the floor with grace of a slobbering mutt, the absurdly long train of her gown swishing along the marble.

Ignoring the faint tingle of all the stares by the rich-blooded, she dragged her feet through the crowd. Her eyes skimmed past those of other hues and insignificant arrogance—she noticed Dawn persistently pursuing the stone-faced, plum-haired soldier among other ladies, and resisted a snort—as she approached the table, and frustration slowly gathered in a bundle of heat behind her ribs. Oh, how on earth could noblewomen tolerate such a slow pace?

Suppressing a frown, she tried to quicken her steps, and all who were in the room discreetly avoided contact with her as she clumsily moved along (their over-self-conscious nature was almost risible).

Yet amidst all the song and dance and chatter, still her eyes caught another's—deep, dark irises like ripples of rich black tea—and suddenly, every muscle clenched within her body.

Had she not seen them before?

She could almost touch upon his name. There it flickered, just beyond her consciousness, so close—if she simply reached out her fingers…

In the moment she grazed its body, she saw them widen, a dim spark lighting within.

Panic lurched forth from the depths of her mind and threw all thought into disarray.

"No, no, no, no, no." She ripped her gaze away in the instant, her mouth as dry as desert sand. "This is a joke, it's a joke..."

Fear seized her feet and mind and twisted every thread of logic until they tore as she stumbled past the countless nobles. Thorny heat blazed excruciatingly in her throat, her skull throbbing in the grip of a beast and iron claws crushing the bone of her voice box.

"You're joking, you're joking," she breathed. "You have to be joking..."

Her heart pounded down on the floor of her stomach and forced scalding acid up through her system. Like a nightmare behind waking eyes, the blur of his face spun around her head, an old murky blackness seeping through the back door of her memory.

That wine was far too strong.

"Pardon me, my lady." His voice was almost a pleasant touch against her ears, the low, silky purr of a feline—but it swelled into a sonorous pound that jolted through her body like a crack of thunder. "My apologies for disturbing you, but you dropped your hat."

Then a doubt kindled in her mind, her heart slowly rising to its cage as she grasped at her senses. Perhaps, if she was fortunate enough, she had mistaken him for another? Not only one being possessed such a smooth voice, after all. Anybody could bear such charming features, too.

Breath still coiled tightly in her windpipe, Leaf slowly turned.

But her heart dropped straight back to the pit of her belly.

Brows with a natural downward slant towards a sharp, straight nose, spikes of auburn enduring the oil that slicked them back, and a stunning, angular visage—his name caught in her nails like a tendril of dust and she could no longer shake it from her fingertips.

"Here you are, my lady."

She nearly flinched at the manner in which he addressed her. Such an unfamiliar tone, yet a dreadfully familiar voice. But he did not react upon the sight of her. Was it possible that he didn't recognise her? Or was she truly mistaken?

Searching his eyes as discreetly as she could, she gingerly pinched the edge of her outstretched, gaudy accessory. "Thank you, milord," she said, hesitantly, stretching her lips from ear to ear as she mentally scrambled for the correct words. "I'm sorry, but I do not know your name. Can you please tell me what it is?"

"Your tongue is slipping."

Her brow twitched. "Pardon?"

His smile widened, clearly amused. "Your tongue is slipping into common parlance, my lady. Indeed, His Highness's lack of grace in several aspects has lowered standards, but his speech is pompously perfect whenever necessary—so if you wish to blend in, it would do you well to mind your mannerisms."

Colourful curses splattered over her thoughts, as if an artist had thrown their paints on her in a fit of rage, and she kicked her mind with such vigour it would have been no surprise if blood burst from her skull. Merely two hours into the ball and already she had exposed herself. _Great job, Leaf._

All strain vanished from her lips in the tick of a clock hand, her eyes widening to the point she could almost feel the tips of her eyelashes tickling the area beneath her brows. "What ever do you mean, milord?" she almost sang, her voice coated with honey so thick even a bee would have grimaced. "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

Much to her dismay, a laugh pealed in his throat (for a reason beyond her, its richness felt so surprising). "You needn't persist with your pretence, my lady," he reassured her. "Ashy-boy, the fool, has informed me of all his schemes. Certainly flawed, but his brain can only do so much when it merely consists of meat."

Leaf blinked. "'Ashy-boy?' You're His Highness's friend?"

"Hardly." The response came as fast as a lady would snap her fan shut: in a gracious fashion with a curt edge in the sound. How odd—she would have thought that one such as himself would have boasted of his connection to the prince.

 _Oh._ Of course she wouldn't understand anymore.

"So which are you?" he asked abruptly.

Once again, she had to repress a frown (her tongue had betrayed her already, and she needn't her face to do so as well). "Pardon?"

"His Highness told me there are four of you, two of whom are brunettes: May and Leaf." He tilted his head quizzically. "Which are you?"

How strange—he truly did not know her. Was it her imagination after all; simply an uncanny resemblance? Full of apprehension, she further pulled her lips to reach her eyes, forcing a chuckle behind them. "Pardon me, milord, but I believe I asked for your name before you asked for mine."

Surprise flitted across his features, and she briefly wondered whether her tongue had doomed her or her tone sounded too juvenile—upon noticing the slight tension in his shoulders and the purse of his smiling lips, she realised he was smothering his mirth as he spoke, and she had to push the tingle of embarrassment below her neck. "Of course. Then allow me to introduce myself."

Suppressing the urge to raise a brow, she watched in awkward astonishment as he swept into courtly bow. "My name is Gary Shigeru Oak, grandson of Duke Samuel Oak."

Shards of regret ripped through her core, his words a hailstorm of jagged stones that dashed violently into her blood. The dread in her throat dried into a void of fear, and the back door of her memory slammed open with shattering power, black torrents gushing forth and drenching her body in cold sweat. What a fool she was to believe in luck—she was wrong in the end and right at the beginning.

 _But what is he doing here?_

"And you, my lady?" His gaze pierced her own, aching behind her eyes. "What is your name?"

Every thought frantically rapped her skull, her limbs intensely hot against the ice in her veins—but despite that powerful urge to run, her feet stayed firmly where she stood.

"Leaf." The name left her lips in a shaky breath. "My name is Leaf Greene."

His smile broadened. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Greene."

An immense weight plunged to her stomach, as cold and dead as stone. When he held her hand, the feel was entirely different from what she remembered—they were so gentle, _too_ gentle, frighteningly foreign. Never did he carry an air so dignified, nor did he treat her so kindly. Wasn't he always slightly rougher, so much prouder and more blatant in his expression?

Through her gloves, his lips felt so tender—yet a chill had snaked through her bones.

"Darling?"

Bright light and a honeyed voice hauled her forth from the mess in her mind, the heat and music and the colour of his eyes shocking her nerves so fast her heart nearly suffered a violent spasm. When Gary turned, a young woman appeared before them, her delicate features plated with gold and dusted with a rosy blush.

"Ah, Angeline." His lips wore a smile just as pleasant, but were far too narrow to be sincere. "My apologies for leaving you. Lady"—she tensed when he furtively glimpsed her clothes—"Yvonne had dropped her hat, you see, so I thought to return it to her."

Muffling the noblewoman's response in her ears, Leaf peered warily at him. There was not a drop of sense in this entire scenario, as if it were all some sort of illogical plotline woven by an amateur storyteller. No, she had not made a mistake—he had the same name, same face—but everything else was almost _too_ different. And how could he not recognise her, forget her so effortlessly, when she had wasted ages and aeons in struggling to push every part of him and her childhood to the farthest corner of her mind? How had he come from so far to this kingdom, this city, this _castle_?

She knew him, but he did not know her.

 _How can that be?_

Rich pools of dark brown poured into orbs of forest green, and a wave of mild heat suddenly forced her focus away from her chaotic thoughts. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yes, milord." Her throat felt like a gnawed bone, but still she fought to keep her voice steady, nodding with a heavy head. "I am fine."

A gracious smile spread over his features. Glancing fleetingly at the lady behind him, he leaned slightly forward—and a sharp shiver stroked her spine when her ear was immersed in the warmth of his breath. "It was a pleasure to speak with you, Lady Greene. Perhaps, should fate wish so, we will meet again."

Ice danced beneath her flesh and painful flames embraced her neck. Chuckling lightly, he turned to face the peeress, whose pinked complexion thinly concealed the green of envy, as she raised her brows in eager expectation. With a flourish, he held out his hand, a dashing smirk playing on his lips. "Shall we take our leave, Angeline? I do believe I promised you a dance."

Clenching her hat, Leaf silently watched him and his partner glide away, further away from her reach, until they were swallowed by the masses of lords and ladies—and when they were well and truly gone from her sight, her heart rose in relief.

In her mind, the concept of fate was one she loathed believing in—if it was anything at all, it was the mother of bastardly miseries. All she had ever known it to have done was cheat on life and spawn deaths, and all the divine miracles that fools would promise had never saved her when she begged.

But at that moment, she desperately wished that if it truly existed, it would not let her eyes find his any longer. After all that it had done, that was the least that she deserved.

* * *

 _Okay, so the ending was a little bit rushed—actually, practically all it was rushed—but on the bright side, I finished it in just a little more than a month! Isn't that good? I think it's good! Sort of!_

 _So, yes, I have gone with the cliché 'Uh-oh, Leaf knows Gary but Gary doesn't know Leaf, what to do' yada yada yada. What's a romance without clichés though, right? ...My apologies for lacking originality. Thinking about it, why is this such a cliché? Doesn't it ever interest you—how a cliché became a cliché? Hm... maybe through so much copying it stopped being considered copying? That sounds likely_ —smart cookies were made to be eaten, after all :). _Ah, but that's not the point. I am truly sorry for this trite thing, but as you know, even with clichés, there are still unique things in the middle (unless you really plagiarised someone), so I will try my best to not make it too, uh...annoying. Don't worry, I'll spread the suffering around! I'm honestly not that evil!_

 _Aaaand as for the other cliché—eyes meeting in a crowd and all that jazz—I think you guys might be aware it has been scientifically proven that those who know each other or something can lock gazes even in a throng of people. Hopefully saying so doesn't insult anybody's intelligence—if it does, I sincerely apologise!—but it's just in case anybody groans from its cringey-ness (although I, too, would probably groan regardless). Actually, I might have gotten that fact wrong... I'll check it out later!_ (^7^;)

 _La-la-lum, dum-dee-doo, ra-ra-rum... oh, and just in case, I also apologise if anybody was expecting a scene where Misty got drunk or something. Since the last line of her part_ _left implications of that, I think I should probably say sorry for any disappointment... And I have no clue what wine tastes like, so if my description is wrong, please do tell me, and I assure you I will change it accordingly!_

 _Well, if there is anything that confuses you, any complaints, any mistakes, please don't hesitate to say so! My cousin (and many others) has (have) also told me my writing tends to get a bit, um… superfluous (which I am ashamed to say is horrifyingly true), so of course, please feel free to point out any places where it does (no idea whether this sentence is grammatically correct, but it will do)!_

 _In any case, thank you for reading! This came out as… um… early(?) as it did because half of it was already done, so I can't be certain how quickly the next chapter will be uploaded! However, I will try my best to release it on time—don't worry if it exceeds a month, I will definitely update this before a year passes! …P-probably!_

 _Um...I think that's that, folks! Smiles, frowns, love, hate—yes, I know you get the message, so I'll free you now—anything's appreciated (as long as it's not a… what do you call it, a troll? Ah, internet terminology still befuddles my poor brain…)!_

 _The Happy Pen_


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